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THE DRAMA 

OF 
THE FORESTS 



/V' 



ff 




A strange apparilion was seen crossing the lake. It appeared to 
have wings, tnit it did not fly; and though it possessed a tail, it did 
not run, but contented itself with moving steadily fonvard on its long 
up-turned feet. Over an arm it carried ivhat might have been a 
trident, and what ivith its waving tail and great outspreading 
wings that rose above its horned^ like head, it suggested . . . 
S.-e Chipler VI 



THE DRAMA OF 
THE FORESTS 

T{omance and ^^dventure 

BY 
ARTHUR HEMING 




ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR 
WITH REPRODUCTIONS FROM A 
SERIES OF HIS PAINTINGS OWNED 
BY THE ROYAL ONTARIO MUSEUM 



GARDEN CITY, N. Y. , AND TORONTO 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
I 92 I 



pi 60 



COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, BY 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 

PRINTED rN THE UNITED STATES 

AT 

THE CODNTKY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 

Firnt Edition 



DEC 27 1921 0\' 



^ 



/ 

^Cf.A8309ei a\ 



^v 



V 



TO 
MR. AND MRS. DAVID A. DUNLAP| 

WITH WHOM I SPENT MANY HAPPY SEASONS 
IN THE GREAT NORTHERN FOREST 



CONTENTS 



PACE 



I. Romance and Adventure 1 

II. In Quest of Treasure 34 

III. Oo-Koo-Hoo's El Dorado 70 

IV. Oo-Koo-Hoo Plays the Game Ill 

V. Meeting of the Wild Men 160 

VI. Wild Animals and Men 207 

VII. Life and Love Return 255 

VIII. Business and Romance 297 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

A strange apparition was seen crossing the lake. It ap- 
peared to have wings Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

I surmised at once who he was, for one could see by the 
merest glance 20 

Going to the brink, we saw a "York Boat" in the act of 
shooting the cataract 52 

Minutes passed while the rising moon cast golden ripples 
upon the water 84 

The lynx is an expert swimmer and is dangerous to tackle 
in the water 100 

Next morning we found that everything was covered with 
a heavy blanket of snow 132 

The bear circled a httle in order to descend. Presently it 
left the shadow 164 

Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes 180 

As the wolf dashed away, the bounding clog sent the 
snow flying 196 

"There's the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to 
Winnipeg" 212 

"It was on my father's hunting grounds, and late one 

afternoon" 228 

ix 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING PAGE 



Oo-koo-hoo could even hear the strange clicking sound 260 

After half of May had passed away, and when the spring 
hunt was over 292 

The departure of the Fur Brigade was the one great event 
of the year 308 



INTRODUCTION 

It was in childhood that the primitive spirit first came 
whispering to me. It was then that I had my first day- 
dreams of the Northland — of its forests, its rivers and lakes, 
its hunters and trappers and traders, its fur-rminers and 
mounted police, its voyageurs and packeteers, its missionaries 
and Indians and prospectors, its animals, its birds and its 
fishes, its trees and its flowers, and its seasons. 

Even in childhood I was for ever wondering . . . what 
is daily going on in the Great Northern Forest? . . . not 
just this week, this month, or this season, but what is actually 
occurring day by day, throughout the cycle of an entire year? 
It was that thought that fascinated me, and when I grew into 
boyhood, I began delving into books of northern travel, but 
I did not find the answer there. With the years this ever- 
present wonder grew, until it so possessed me that at last it 
spirited me away from the city, while I was still in my teens, 
and led me along a path of ever-changing and ever-increasing 
pleasure, showing me the world, not as men had mauled and 
marred it, but as the Master of Life had made it, in all its 
original beauty and splendour. Nor was this all. It led me to 
observe and ponder over the daily pages of the most profound 
and yet the most fascinating book that man has ever tried to 
read; and though, it seemed to me, my feeble attempts to de- 
cipher its text were always futile, it has, nevertheless, not only 
taught me to love Nature with an ever-increasing passion, but 
it has inspired in me an infinite homage toward the Almighty ; 
for, as Emerson says: "In the woods we return to reason and 
faith. Then I feel that nothing can befall me in life — no dis- 

xi 



xii INTRODUCTION 

grace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes) — which Natm-e cannot 
repair. Standing on the bare gromid — my head bathed by the 
bhthe air and uplifted into infinite space — all mean egoism 
vanishes. ... I am the lover of uncontained and im- 
mortal beauty." 

So, to make my fife-dream come true, to contemplate in aU 
its thriUing action and undying splendour the drama of the 
forests, I traveUed twenty-three times through various parts of 
the vast northern woods, between Maine and Alaska, and 
covered thousands upon thousands of miles by canoe, pack- 
train, snowshoes, bateau, dog-train, buck-board, timber-raft, 
prairie-schooner, lumber-wagon, and "aUigator." No one 
trip ever satisfied me, or afforded me the knowledge or the 
experience I sought, for traversing a single section of the 
forest was not unfike making one's way along a single street of a 
metropolis and then trying to persuade oneself that one knew 
all about the city's life. So back again I went at all seasons of 
the year to encamp in that great timber-land that sweeps from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific. Thus it has taken me thirty-three 
years to gather the information this volume contains, and my 
only hope in writing it is that perhaps others may have had the 
same day-dream, and that in this book they may find a reliable 
and satisfactory answer to all their wonderings. But making 
my dream come true — what dehght it gave me! What sport 
and travel it afforded me! What toil and sweat it caused me! 
What food and rest it brought me! What charming places it 
led me through! What interesting people it ranged beside me! 
What romance it unfolded before me! and into what thrill- 
ing adventures it plunged me! 

But before we paddle down the winding wilderness aisle 
toward the great stage upon which Diana and all her attendant 
huntsmen and forest creatures may appear, I wish to explain 
that in comphance with the wishes of the leading actors — 
who actually lived their parts of this story — fictitious names 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

have been given to the principal characters and to the prin- 
cipal trading posts, lakes, and rivers herein depicted. Further- 
more, in order to give the reader a more interesting, complete, 
and faithful description of the daily and the yearly life of 
the forest dwellers as I have observed it, I have taken the 
hberty of weaving together the more interesting facts I have 
gathered — both first- and second-hand — into one continuous 
narrative as though it all happened in a single year. And in 
order to retain all the primitive local colour, the unique cos- 
tmnes, and the fascinating romance of the fur-trade days as I 
witnessed them in my twenties — though much of the life has 
already passed away — the scene is set to represent a certain 
year in the early nineties. 

Arthur Heming. 



THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

I 

ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 

HER FATHER THE FREE TRADER 

It was September 9, 189-. From smirise to smiset 
through mist, sunshine, shower, and shadow we travelled, and 
the nearer we drew to our first destination, the wilder the 
country became, the more water-fowl we saw, and the more the 
river banks were marked with traces of big game. Here signs 
told us that three caribou had crossed the stream, there muddy 
water was still trickling into the hoofprint of a moose, and 
yonder a bear had been fishing. Finally, the day of our arrival 
dawned, and as I paddled, I spent much of the time dreaming of 
the adventure before me. As our beautiful birchen craft still 
sped on her way, the handsome bow parted the shimmering 
waters, and a passing breeze sent httle running waves gurgling 
along her sides, while the splendour of the autumn sun was 
reflected on a far-reaching row of dazzling ripples that danced 
upon the water, making our voyageurs lower their eyes and the 
trader doze again. There was no other sign of life except an 
eagle soaring in and out among the fleecy clouds slowly 
passing overhead. All around was a panorama of enchanting 
forest. 

My travelling companion was a "Free Trader," whose 
name was Spear — a tall, stoop-shouldered man with heavy eye- 
brows and shaggy, drooping moustache. The way we met was 
amusing. It happened in a certain frontier town. His first 

1 



2 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

question was as to whether I was single. His second, as to 
whether my time was my own. Then he slowly looked me 
over from head to foot. He seemed to be measm'ing my 
stature and strength and to be noting the colour of my eyes 
and hair. 

Narrowing his vision, he scrutinized me more carefully than 
before, for now he seemed to be reading my character — if not 
my soul. Then, smiling, he blurted out: 

"Come, be my guest for a couple of weeks. Will you?" 

I laughed. 

He frowned. But on realizing that my mirth was caused 
only by surprise, he smiled again and let flow a vivid descrip- 
tion of a place he called Spearhead. It was the home of the 
northern fur trade. It was the centre of a great timber region. 
It was the heart of a vast fertile belt that was rapidly becoming 
the greatest of all farming districts. It was built on the 
fountain head of gigantic water power. It virtually stood 
over the very vault that contained the richest veins of mineral 
to be found in the whole Dominion — at least that's what he 
said — and he also assured me that the Government had reahzed 
it, too, for was it not going to hew a provincicJ highway clean 
through the forest to Spearhead? Was it not going to build a 
fleet of steamers to ply upon the lakes and rivers in that sec- 
tion? And was it not going to build a hne of railroad to the 
town itself in order to connect it with the new transcontinental 
and thus put it in communication with the great commercial 
centres of the East and the West? In fact, he also impressed 
upon me that Spearhead was a town created for young men 
who were not averse to becoming wealthy in whatever Hne of 
business they might choose. It seemed that great riches were 
already there and had but to be lifted. Would I go? 

But when I explained that although I was single, and quite 
free, I was not a business man, he became crestfallen, but 
presently revived enough to exclaim : 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 3 

"Well, what the dickens are you?" 

"An artist," I rephed. 

"Oh, I see! Well ... we need an artist very badly. 
You'll have the field all to yourself in Spearhead. Besides, 
your pictures of the fur trade and of pioneer life would eventu- 
ally become historical and bring you no end of wealth. You 
had better come. Better decide right away, or some other 
artist chap wiU get ahead of you." 

But when I further explained that I was going to spend the 
winter in the wilderness, that I had already written to the 
Hudson's Bay Factor at Fort Consolation and that he was 
expecting me. Spear gloated: 

"Bully boy!" and slapping me on the shoulder, he chuckled: 
"Why, my town is just across the lake from Fort Consolation. 
A mere five-mile paddle, old chap, and remember, I extend to 
you the freedom of Spearhead in the name of its future mayor. 
And, man ahve, I'm leaving for there to-morrow morning in a 
big four-fathom birch bark, with four Indian canoe-men. Be 
my guest. It won't cost you a farthing, and we'll make the 
trip together." 

I gladly accepted. The next morning we started. Free 
Trader Spear was a character, and I afterward learned that 
he was an Oxford University man, who, having been 
"ploughed," left for Canada, entered the service of the Hudson's 
Bay Company, and had finally been moved to Fort Consola- 
tion where he served seven years, learned the fur-trade business, 
and resigned to become a "free trader" as all fur traders are 
called who carry on business in opposition to "The Great 
Company." We were eight days upon the trip, but, strange to 
say, during each day's travel toward Spearhead, his conversa- 
tion in reference to that thriving town made it appear to grow 
smaller and smaller, until at last it actually dwindled down to 
such a point, that, about sunset on the day we were to arrive, he 
turned to me and casually remarked: 



4 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

"Presently you'll see Fort Consolation and the Indian 
village beyond. Spearhead is just across the lake, and by the 
bye, my boy, I forgot to tell you that Spearhead is just my log 
shack. But it's a nice little place, and you'll like it when you 
pay us a visit, for I want you to meet my wife." 

Then our canoe passed a jutting point of land and in a mo- 
ment the scene was changed — we were no longer on a river, but 
were now upon a lake, and the wilderness seemed suddenly left 
behind. 

AT FORT CONSOLATION 

On the outer end of a distant point a cluster of poplars 
shaded a small, clapboarded log house. There, in charge of 
Fort Consolation, hved the Factor of the Hudson's Bay 
Company. Beyond a httle lawn enclosed by a picket fence 
stood the large storehouse. The lower floor of this was used as 
a trading room; the upper story served for a fur loft. Behind 
were seen a number of shanties, then another large building in 
which dog-sleds and great birch-bark canoes were stored. Far- 
ther away was a long open shed, under which those big canoes 
were built, then a few small huts where the half-breeds lived. 
With the exception of the Factor's house, all the buildings were 
of rough-hewn logs plastered with clay. Around the sweeping 
bend of the bay was a village of tepees in which the Indian fur 
hunters and their families spend their midsummer. Crowning 
a knoll in the rear stood a quaint httle church with a small tin 
spire glistening in the sun, and capped by a cross that spread its 
tiny arms to heaven. On the hiU in the background the time- 
worn pines swayed their shaggy heads and softly whispered to 
that, the first gentle touch of civilization in the wilderness. 

Presently, at irregular intervals, guns were discharged along 
the shore, beginning at the point nearest the canoe and running 
round the curve of the bay to the Indian camp, where a brisk 
fusillade took place. A moment later the Hudson's Bay Com- 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 5 

pany's flag fluttered over Fort Consolation. Plainly, the 
arrival of our canoe was causing excitement at the Post. 
Trader Spear laughed aloud : 

"That's one on old Mackenzie. He's taking my canoe for 
that of the Hudson's Bay Inspector. He's generally due about 
this time." 

From aU directions men, women, and children were swarming 
toward the landing, and when our canoe arrived there must 
have been fully four hundred Indians present. The first to 
greet us was Factor Mackenzie — a gruff, bearded Scotsman 
with a clean-shaven upper hp, gray hair, and piercing gray 
eyes. When we entered the Factor's house we found it to be a 
typical wilderness home of an officer of the Hudson's Bay 
Company; and, therefore, as far unlike the interiors of fur- 
traders' houses as shown upon the stage, movie screen, or in 
magazine illustration, as it is possible to imagine. Upon the 
waUs we saw neither mounted heads nor skins of wild animals ; 
nor were fur robes spread upon the floors, as one would expect 
to find after reading the average story of Hudson's Bay life. 
On the contrary, the well-scrubbed floors were perfectly bare, 
and the walls were papered from top to bottom with countless 
illustrations cut from the London Graphic and the Illustrated 
London News. The pictures not only took the place of wall 
paper, making the house more nearly wind-proof, but also 
afl'orded endless amusement to those who had to spend therein 
the long winter months. The house was furnished sparingly 
with simple, home-made furniture that had more the appearance 
of utility than of beauty. 

At supper time we sat down with Mrs. Mackenzie, the 
Factor's half-breed wife, who took the head of the table. After 
the meal we gathered in the hving room before an open fire, 
over the mantelpiece of which there were no guns, no powder 
horns, nor even a pair of snowshoes; for a fur trader would no 
more think of hanging his snowshoes there than a city dweller 



6 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

would think of hanging his overshoes over his drawing-room 
mantel. Upon the mantel shelf, however, stood a few un- 
framed family photographs and some books, while above hung a 
rustic picture frame, the only frame to be seen in the room; it 
contained the motto, worked in coloured yarns: "God Bless 
Our Home." When pipes were lighted and we had drawn 
closer to the fire, the Factor occupied a quaint, home-made, 
rough-hewn affair known as the "Factor's chair." On the 
under side of the seat were inscribed the signatures and dates of 
accession to that throne of all the factors who had reigned at 
the Post during the past eighty-seven years. 

A MIGHTY HUNTER 

After the two traders had finished "talking musquash" — 
fur-trade business — they began reminiscing on the more pictur- 
esque side of their work, and as I had come to spend the winter 
with the fur hunters on their hunting grounds, the subject 
naturally turned to that well-worn topic, the famous Nim- 
rods of the North. It brought forth many an interesting tale, 
for both my companions were well versed in such lore, and in 
order to keep up my end I quoted from Warren's book on the 
Ojibways: "As an illustration of the kind and abundance of 
animkls which then covered the country, it is stated that an 
Ojibway hunter named No-Ka, the grandfather of Chief White 
Fisher, killed in one day's hunt, starting from the mouth of 
Crow Wing River, sixteen elk, four buffalo, five deer, three 
bear, one lynx, and one porcupine. There was a trader winter- 
ing at the time at Crow Wing, and for his winter's supply of 
meat, No-Ka presented him with the fruits of his day's 
hunt." 

My host granted that that was the biggest day's bag he had 
ever heard of, and Trader Spear, withdrawing his pipe from his 
mouth, remarked: 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 7 

"No-Ka must have been a great hunter. I would like to 
have had his trade. But, nevertheless, I have heard of an 
Indian who might have been a match for him. He, too, was an 
Ojibway, and his name was Narphim. He lived somewhere 
out in the Peace River country, and I've heard it stated that 
he killed, in his hfetime, more than eighty thousand hving 
things. Some bag for one hunter." 

Since Trader Spear made that interesting remark I have had 
the pleasure of meeting a factor of the Hudson's Bay Company 
who knew Narphim from boyhood, and who was a personal 
friend of his, and who was actually in charge of a number of 
posts at which the Indian traded. Owing to their friendship 
for one another, the Factor took such a personal pride in the 
fame the hunter won, that he compiled, from the books of the 
Hudson's Bay Company, a complete record of all the fur-bear- 
ing animals the Indian killed between the time he began to 
trade as a hunter at the age of eleven, until his hunting days 
were ended. Furthermore, in discussing the subject with 
Narphim they together compiled an approximate Ust of the 
number of fish, wild fowl, and rabbits that the hunter must 
have secured each season, and thus Narphim's record stands 
as the following figures show. I would tell you the Factor's 
name but as he has written to me : "For many cogent reasons 
it is desirable that my name be not mentioned officially in your 
book," I must refrain. I shall, however, give you the history 
of Narphim in the Factor's own words : 

"Narphim's proper name remains unknown as he was one 
of two children saved when a band of Ojibways were drowned 
in crossing a large lake that Kes S. E. of Cat Lake and Island 
Lake, and S. E. of Norway House. He was called Nar- 
phim — Saved from the Waters. The other child that was 
rescued was a girl and she was called Neseemis — Our Little 
Sister. At first Narphim was adopted and lived with a 
Swampy Cree chief, the celebrated Keteche-ka-paness, who 



8 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

was a great medicine man. When Narphim grew to be eleven 
years old he became a hunter, and first traded his catch at 
Island Lake; then as the years went by, at Oxford House; 
then at Norway House, then at Fort Chepewyan, and then 
at Fort McMurray. After that he went to Lesser Slave Lake, 
then on to the Peace River at Dunvegan, then he showed 
up at Fort St. John, next at Battle River, and finally at 
Vermihon. 

"The following is a hst of the number of creatures Narphim 
killed, but of course he also killed a good deal of game that 
was never recorded in the Company's books, especially those 
animals whose skins were used for the clothing of the hunter's 
family. 

"Bears 585, beaver 1,080, ermines 130, fishers 195, red 
foxes 362, cross foxes 78, silver and black foxes 6, lynxes 418, 
martens 1,078, minks 384, muskrats 900, porcupines 19, otters 
194, wolves 112, wolverines 24, wood buffaloes 99, moose 396, 
caribou 196, jumping deer 72, wapiti 156, mountain sheep 60, 
mountain goats 29; and rabbits, approximately 8,000, wild 
fowl, approximately 23,800, and fish approximately 36,000. 
Total 74,573. 

"Yes, Narphim was a great hunter and a good man," says 
the Factor in his last letter to me. "He was a fine, active, 
well-built Indian and a reliable and pleasant companion. In 
fact, he was one of Nature's gentlemen, whom we shall be, and 
well may be, proud to meet in the Great Beyond, known as the 
Happy Hunting Grounds." 

Thus the evening drifted by. While the names of several 
of the best hunters had been mentioned as suitable men for 
me to accompany on their hunting trail, it was suggested that 
as the men themselves would probably visit the Post in the 
morning, I should have a chat with them before making my 
selection. Both Mackenzie and Spear, however, seemed 
much in favour of my going with an Indian called Oo-koo-hoo. 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 9 

Presently the clock struck ten and we turned in, the Free 
Trader sharing a big feather bed with me. 

THEIR SUMMER LIFE 

After breakfast next morning I strolled about the 
picturesque point. It was a windless, hazy day. An early 
frost had already clothed a number of the trees with their 
gorgeous autumnal mantles, the forerunners of Indian summer, 
the most glorious season of the Northern year. 

When I turned down toward the wharf, I found a score of 
Indians and half-breed trippers imloading freight from a 
couple of six-fathom birch-bark canoes. Eager men and 
boys were good-naturedly loading themselves with packs and 
hurrying away with them to the storehouse, while others were 
lounging around or applauding the carriers with the heaviest 
loads. As the packers hurried by, Delaronde, the jovial, 
swarthy-faced, French-Canadian clerk, note-book in hand, 
checked the number of pieces. Over by the log huts a group 
of Indian women were sitting in the shade, talking to Dela- 
ronde's Indian wife. AU about, and in and out of the Indian 
lodges, dirty, half-naked children romped together, and savage 
dogs prowled around seeking what they might devour. The 
deerskin or canvas covers of most of the tepees were raised a 
few feet to allow the breeze to pass under. Small groups of 
women and children squatted or rechned in the shade, smoking 
and chatting the hours away. Here and there women were 
cleaning fish, mending nets, weaving mats, making clothes, or 
standing over steaming kettles. Many of the men had joined 
the "goods brigade," and their return was hourly expected. 
Many canoes were resting upon the sandy beach, and many 
more were lying bottom up beneath the shade of trees. 

The most important work undertaken by the Indians during 
the summer is canoe building. As some of the men are more 



10 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

expert at this than others, it often happens that the bulk of the 
work is done by a few who engage in it as a matter of business. 
Birch bark for canoe building is taken from the tree early in 
May. The chosen section, which may run from four to eight 
feet in length, is first cut at the top and bottom; then a two- 
inch strip is removed from top to bottom in order to make 
room for working a chisel-shaped wooden wedge — about two 
feet long — with which the bark is taken off. Where knots 
appear great care is exercised that the bark be not torn. To 
make it easier to pack, the sheet of bark is then rolled up the 
narrow way, and tied with willow. In this shape, it is trans- 
ported to the summer camping grounds. Canoes range in 
size all the way from twelve feet to thirty-six feet in length. 
The smaller size, being more easily portaged, is used by hunters, 
and is known as a two-fathom canoe. For family use canoes 
are usually from two and a half to three and a half fathoms 
long. Canoes of the largest size, thirty-six feet, are called six- 
fathom or "North" canoes. With a crew of from eight to 
twelve, they have a carrying capacity of from three to four tons, 
and are used by the traders for transporting furs and supplies. 
Some Indians engage in "voyaging" or "tripping" for the 
traders — taking out fur packs to the steamboats or railroads, 
by six-fathom canoe, York boat, or sturgeon-head scow bri- 
gades, and bringing in supphes. Others put in part of their 
time on an occasional hunt for moose or caribou, or in shooting 
wild fowl. On their return they potter around camp making 
paddles or snowshoe frames; or they give themselves up to 
gambhng — a vice to which they are rather prone. Sometimes 
twenty men or more, divided into equal sides, will sit in the 
form of an oval, with their hair drawn over their faces that 
their expression may not easily be read, and with their knees 
covered with blankets. Leaders are chosen on either side, 
and each team is supplied with twelve small sticks. The game 
begins by one of the leaders placing his closed hands upon his 



1 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 11 

blanket, and calling upon the other to match him. If the latter 
is holding his stick in the wrong hand, he loses; and so the game 
goes on. Two sets of drummers are playing continuously and 
all the while there is much chanting. In this simple wise they 
gamble away their belongings, even to their clothing, and, 
sometimes, their wives. When the wives are at stake, however, 
they have the privilege of taking a hand in the game. 

The women, in addition to their regular routine of summer 
camp duties, occupy themselves \vith fishing, moccasin mak- 
ing, and berry picking. The girls join their mothers in picking 
berries, which are plentiful and of great variety — raspberries, 
strawberries, cranberries, blueberries, gooseberries, swamp- 
berries, saskatoonberries, pembinaberries, pheasantberries, 
bearberries, and snakeberries. They gather also wild celery, 
the roots of rushes, and the inner bark of the poplar — all 
which they eat raw. In some parts, too, they gather wild rice. 
Before their summer holidays are over, they have usually 
secured a fair stock of dried berries, smoked meats and bladders 
and casings filled with fish oil or other soft grease, to help out 
their bill of fare during the winter. The women devote most 
of their spare moments to bead, hair, porcupine, or silk work 
which they use for the decoration of their clothing. They 
make mos-quit-moots, or hunting bags, of plaited babiche, 
or deerskin thongs, for the use of the men. The girl's first 
lesson in sewing is always upon the coarsest work; such as 
joining skins together for lodge coverings. The threads used 
are made from the sinews of the deer or the wolf. These 
sinews are first hung outside to dry a httle, and are then split 
into the finest threads. The thread-maker passes each strand 
through her mouth to moisten it, then places it upon her bare 
thigh, and with a quick movement rolls it with the flat of her 
hand to twist it. Passing it again through her mouth, she ties 
a knot at one end, points the other, and puts it away to dry. 
The result is a thread hke the finest hair-wire. 



12 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

For colouring moose hair or porcupine quills for fancy work, 
the women obtain their dyes in the following ways: From the 
juice of boiled cranberries they derive a magenta dye. From 
alder bark, boiled, beaten, and strained, they get a dark, 
slate-coloured blue which is mixed with rabbits' gall to meike it 
adhere. The juice of bearberries gives them a bright red. 
From gunpowder and water they obtain a fine black, and 
from coal tar a stain for work of the coarsest kind. They 
rely chiefly, however, upon the red, blue, green, and yellow 
ochres found in many parts of the country. These, when ap- 
phed to the decoration of canoes, they mix with fish oil; but for 
general purposes the earths are baked and used in the form of 
powder. 

From scenes such as I have described the summer traveller 
obtains his impression of the forest Indians. Too often their 
life and character are judged by such scenes, as if these truly 
represented their whole existence. In reahty, this is but their 
holiday season which they are spending upon their tribal 
summer camping ground. It is only upon their hunting 
grounds that one may fairly study the Indians; so, presently, we 
shaU follow them there. And when one experiences the wild, 
free life the Indian lives — hampered by no household goods or 
other property that he cannot at a moment's notice dump into 
his canoe and carry with him to the ends of the earth if he 
chooses — one not only envies him, but ceases to wonder which 
of the two is the greater philosopher — the white man or the 
red; for the poor old white man is so overwhelmed with 
absurd conventions and encumbering property that he can 
rarely do what his heart dictates. 

FAMILY HUNTING GROUNDS 

Don't let us decide just yet, however, whether the Indian 
derives more pleasure from life than does the white] man, at 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 13 

least, not until we return from our voyage of pleasure and 
investigation; but before we leave Fort Consolation it is well 
to know that the hunting grounds in possession of the Indian 
tribes that Uve in the Great Northern Forest have been for 
centuries divided and subdivided and allotted, either by bargain 
or by battle, to the main famihes of each band. In many cases 
the same hunting grounds have remained in the undisputed 
possession of the same famihes for generations. Family hunt- 
ing groimds are usually delimited by natural boundaries, such 
as hiUs, valleys, rivers, and lakes. The allotments of land 
generally take the form of wedge-shaped tracts radiating from 
common centres. From the intersection of these converging 
boundary lines the common centres become the hubs of the 
various districts. These district centres mark convenient 
summer camping grounds for the reunion of families after their 
arduous labour during the long winter hunting season. The 
tribal summer camping grounds, therefore, are not only situ- 
ated on the natural highways of the country — the principal 
rivers and lakes — but also indicate excellent fishing stations. 
There, too, the Indians have their burial grounds. 

Often these camping grounds are the summer headquarters 
for from three to eight main families; and each main family may 
contain from five or six to fifty or sixty hunting men. Inter- 
marriage between families of two districts gives the man the 
right to hunt on the land of his wife's family as long as he 
"sits on the brush" with her — is wedded to her — but the 
children do not inherit that right; it dies with the father. 
An Indian usually lives upon his own land, but makes frequent 
excursions to the land of his wife's family. 

In the past, the side boundaries of hmiting grounds have 
been the cause of many family feuds, and the outer bound- 
aries have furnished the occasion for many tribal wars. The 
past and the present headquarters camping grounds of the 
Strong Woods Indians — as the inhabitants of the Great Northern 



14 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Forest are generally called — lie about one hundred and fifty 
miles apart. 

The natural overland highways throughout the country, 
especially those intersecting the watercourses and now used as 
the roadbeds for our great transcontinental railways, were 
not originally discovered by man at all. The credit is due to 
the big game of the wilderness ; for the animals were not only 
the first to find them, but also the first to use them. The In- 
dian simply followed the animals, and the trader followed the 
Indian, and the ofiicial "explorer" followed the trader, and the 
engineer followed the "explorer," and the railroad contractor 
followed the engineer. It was the buffalo, the deer, the bear, 
and the wolf who were our original transcontinental path- 
finders, or rather pathmakers. Then, too, the praise bestowed 
upon the pioneer fur traders for the excellent judgment shown 
in choosing the sites upon which trading posts have been 
established throughout Canada, has not been deserved; the 
credit is really due to the Indians. The fur traders erected 
their posts or forts upon the tribal camping grounds simply 
because they found such spots to be the general meeting places 
of the Indians, and not only situated on the principal highways 
of the wilderness but accessible from all points of the surround- 
ing country, and, moreover, the very centres of excellent fish 
and game regions. Thus in Canada many of the ancient 
tribal camping grounds are now known by the names of 
trading posts, of progressive frontier towns, or of important 
cities. 

Now, as of old, the forest Indians after their winter's hunt 
return in the early summer to trade their catch of furs, to meet 
old friends, and to rest and gossip awhile before the turning 
leaf warns them to secure their next winter's "advances" from 
the trader, and once more paddle away to their distant hunting 
grounds. 

The several zones of the Canadian wilderness are locally 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 15 

known as the Coast Country — the shores of the Arctic Ocean 
and Hudson Bay; the Barren Grounds — the treeless country 
between Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie River; the Strong 
Woods Country — the whole of that enormous belt of heavy 
timber that spans Canada from east to west; the Border 
Lands — the tracts of small, scattered timber that lie between 
the prairies and the northern forests ; the Prairie Country ; the 
Mountains; and the Big Lakes. These names have been 
adopted by the fur traders from the Indians. It is in the Strong 
Woods Country that most of the fur-bearing animals live. 

MEETING OO-KOO-HOO 

About ten o'clock on the morning after our arrival at Fort 
Consolation, Free Trader Spear left for home with my promise 
to paddle over and dine at Spearhead next day. 

At noon Factor Mackenzie informed me that he had received 
word that Oo-koo-hoo — The Owl — was coming to the Fort 
that afternoon and that, taking everything into consideration, 
he thought Oo-koo-hoo's hunting party the best for me to 
join. It consisted, he said, of Oo-koo-hoo and his wife, his 
daughter, and his son-in-law, Amik — The Beaver — and Amik's 
five children. The Factor further added that Oo-koo-hoo 
was not only one of the greatest hunters, and one of the best 
canoe-men in that district, but in his youth he had been a great 
traveller, as he had hunted with other Indian tribes, on Hudson 
Bay, on the Churchill, the Peace, the Athabasca, and the 
Slave rivers, and even on the far-away Mackenzie; and was a 
master at the game. His son-in-law, Amik, was his hunting 
partner. Though Amik would not be home until to-morrow, 
Oo-koo-hoo and his wife, their daughter and her children were 
coming that afternoon to get their "advances," as the party 
contemplated leaving for their hunting grounds on the second 
day. That I might look them over while they were getting 



16 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

their supplies in the Indian shop, and if I took a fancy to the old 
gentleman — ^who by the way was about sixty years of age — the 
trader would give me an introduction, and I could then make 
my arrangements with the hunter himself. So after dinner, 
when word came that they had landed, I left the hving room for 
the Indian shop. 

In the old days, in certain parts of the country, when the 
Indians came to the posts to get their "advances" or to barter 
their winter's catch of fur, the traders had to exercise constant 
caution to prevent them from looting the establishments. At 
some of the posts only a few Indians at a time were allowed 
within the fort, and even then trading was done through a 
wicket. But that apphed only to the Plains Indians and to 
some of the natives of the Pacific Coast; for the Strong Woods 
people were remarkably honest. Even to-day this holds good 
notwithstanding the fact that they are now so much in contact 
with white men. Nowadays the Indians in any locality 
rarely cause trouble, and at the trading posts the business of 
the Indian shops is conducted in a quiet and orderly way. 

The traders do most of their bartering with the Indians in 
the early summer when the hunters return laden with the 
spoils of their winter's hunt. In the early autumn, when the 
Indians are about to leave for their hunting grounds, much 
business is done, but little in the way of barter. At that season 
the Indians procure their outfit for the winter. Being usually 
insolvent, owing to the leisurely time spent upon the tribal 
camping grounds, they receive the necessary supplies on 
credit. The amount of credit, or "advances," given to each 
Indian seldom exceeds one third of the value of his average 
annual catch. That is the white man's way of securing, in 
advance, the bulk of the Indian's prospective hunt; yet, 
although a few of them are sometimes slow in settling 
their debts, they are never a match for the civilized white 
man. 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 17 

When I entered the trading room I saw that it was furnished 
with a U-shaped counter parallehng three sides of the room, 
and with a large box-stove in the middle of the intervening 
space. On the shelves and racks upon the walls and from 
hooks in the rafters rested or hung a conglomeration of goods to 
be offered in trade to the natives. There were copper pails and 
cahco dresses, pain-killer bottles and Hudson's Bay blankets, 
sow-belly and chocolate drops, castor oil and gun worms, frying- 
pans and ladies' wire bustles, guns and corsets, axes and 
ribbons, shirts and hunting-knives, perfumes and bear traps. 
In a way, the Indian shop resembled a department store except 
that all the departments were jumbled together in a single 
room. At one post I visited years ago — that of Abitibi — they 
had a rather progressive addition in the way of a miUinery 
department. It was contained in a large hdless packing case 
against the side of which stood a long steering paddle for the 
clerk's use in stirring about the varied assortment of white 
women's ancient headgear, should a fastidious Indian woman 
request to see more than the uppermost layer. 

Already a nmnber of Indians were being served by the 
Factor and Delaronde, the clerk, and I had not long to wait 
before Oo-koo-hoo appeared. I surmised at once who he was, 
for one could see by the merest glance at his remarkably pleas- 
ant yet thoroughly clever face, that he was all his name impUed, 
a wise, dignified old gentleman, who was in the habit of observ- 
ing much more than he gave tongue to — a rare quality in men — 
especially white men. Even before I heard him speak I Uked 
Oo-koo-hoo — The Owl. 

But before going any farther, I ought to explain that as I am 
endeavouring to render a faithful description of forest life, I am 
going to repeat in the next few paragraphs part of what once 
appeared in one of my fictitious stories of northern life. I then 
made use of the matter because it was the truth, and for that 
very reason I am now going to repeat it; also because this 



18 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

transaction as depicted is typical of what usually happens 
when the Indians try to secure their advances. Furthermore, 
I give the dialogue in detail, as perchance some reader may feel 
as Thoreau did, when he said: "It would be some advantage 
to live a primitive and frontier hfe, though in the midst of an 
outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross neces- 
saries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain 
them; or even to look over the old day-books of the mer- 
chants, to see what it was that men most commonly bought at 
the stores, what they stored, that is, what are the grossest 
groceries." 

But while the following outfit might be considered the 
Indian's grossest groceries, the articles are not really neces- 
saries at all for him; for, to go to the extreme, a good woodsman 
can hunt without even gun, axe, knife, or matches, and can live 
happily, absolutely independent of our civilization. 

As the Factor was busy with another Indian when the Chief 
entered — for Oo-koo-hoo was the chief of the Ojibways of 
that district — he waited patiently, as he would not deign to do 
business with a clerk. When he saw the trader free, he greeted : 

"Quay, quay, HugemowF' (Good day, Master). 

" Gude day, man Oo-koo-hoo, what can I do for ye the day .^ " 
amicably responded the Factor. 

" Master, it is this way. I am about to leave for my hunting 
grounds; but this time I am going to spend the winter upon a 
new part of them, where I have not hunted for years, and 
where game of all kinds will be plentiful. Therefore, I want 
you to give me hberal advances so that my hunt will not be 
hindered." 

"Fegs, Oo-koo-hoo, ma freen', yon's an auld, auld farrant. 
But ye're well kenn'd for a leal, honest man; an' sae, I'se no be 
unco haird upon ye." 

So saying, the Factor made him a present of a couple of pounds 
of flour, half a pound of pork, half a pound of sugar, a quarter 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 19 

of a pound of tea, a plug of tobacco, and some matches. The 
Factor's generosity was prompted largely by his desire to keep 
the Indian in good humour. After a little friendly chaffing, the 
Factor promised to give the hunter advances to the extent of 
one hundred "skins." 

A "skin," or, as it is often called, a "made beaver," is equiva- 
lent to one dollar in the Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie River 
districts, but only fifty cents in the region of the Athabasca. 

Perhaps it should be explained here that while Oo-koo-hoo 
could speak broken English, he always preferred to use his own 
language when addressing the trader, whom he knew to be 
quite conversant with Ojibway, and so, throughout this book, 
I have chosen to render the Indian's speech as though it was 
translated from Ojibway into English, rather than at any time 
render it in broken English, as the former is not only easier to 
read, but is more expressive of the natural quality of the 
Indian's speech. In olden days some of the chiefs who could 
not speak English at all were, it is claimed, eloquent orators — 
far outclassing our greatest statesmen. 

Oo-koo-hoo, having ascertained the amount of his credit, 
reckoned that he would use about fifty skins in buying traps 
and ammunition; the rest he would devote to the purchase of 
necessaries for himself and his party, as his son-in-law had 
arranged with him to look after his family's wants in his 
absence. So the old gentleman now asked for the promised 
skins. He was handed one hundred marked goose quills repre- 
senting that number of skins. After checking them over in 
bunches of ten, he entrusted twenty to his eldest grandson, 
Ne-geek — The Otter — to be held in reserve for ammunition and 
tobacco, and ten to his eldest granddaughter, Neykia, with 
which to purchase an outfit for the rest of the party. 

For a long time Oo-koo-hoo stood immersed in thought. 
At last his face brightened. He had reached a decision. For 
years he had coveted a new muzzle-loading gun, and he felt 



20 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

that the time had now arrived to get it. So he picked out one 
valued at forty skins and paid for it. Then, taking back the 
quills his grandson held, he bought twenty skins' worth of 
powder, caps, shot, and bullets. Then he selected for himself a 
couple of pairs of trousers, one pair made of moleskin and the 
other of tweed, costing ten skins; two shirts and a suit of under- 
wear, ten skins ; half a dozen assorted traps, ten skins. Finding 
that he had used up all his quills, he drew on those set aside for 
his wife and son-in-law's family and bought tobacco, five skins; 
files, one skin; an axe, two skins; a knife, one skin; matches, 
one half skin; and candy for his youngest grandchild, one half 
skin. On looking over his acquisitions he discovered that he 
must have at least ten skins' worth of twine for nets and snares, 
five skins' worth of tea, one skin worth of soap, one skin worth 
of needles and thread, as well as a tin pail and a new frying pan. 
After a good deal of hagghng, the Factor threw him that 
number of quiUs, and Oo-koo-hoo's manifest contentment 
somewhat relieved the trader's anxiety. 

A moment later, however, Oo-koo-hoo was reminded by his 
wife, Ojistoh, that there was nothing for her, so she determined 
to interview the Factor herself. She tried to persuade him to 
give her twenty skins in trade, and promised to pay for them in 
the spring with rat and ermine skins, or — should those fedl her — 
with her dog, which was worth fully thirty skins. vShe had been 
counting on getting some cotton print for a dress, as well as 
thread and needles, to say nothing of extra tea, which in all 
would amount to at least thirty-five or forty skins. When, 
however, the Factor allowed her only ten skins, her disap- 
pointment was keen, and she ended by getting a shawl. Then 
she left the trading room to pay a visit to the Factor's wife, and 
confide to her the story of her expectations and of her disap- 
pointment so movingly that she would get a cup of tea, a word of 
sympathy, and perhaps even an old petticoat. 

In the meantime, Oo-koo-hoo was catching it again. He had 




/ surmised at once who lie was, for one could see by the merest 
glance at his reniarkafjly pleasant yet thoroughly clever face, that he 
was all his name implied, a wise dignified old gentleman, who was 
in tlie habit of observing much more than he gave tongue to — a rare 
quality in men — especially white men. Even before I heard him 
speak I liked Oo-koo-hoo — The . . See Cliapter I 



II 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 21 

forgotten his daughter; so after more hagghng the trader 
agreed to advance her ten skins. Her mind had long been 
made up. She bought a three-point blanket, a small head 
shawl, and a piece of cotton print. Then the grandsons crowded 
round and grumbled because there was nothing for them. 

By this time the trader was beginning to feel that he had 
done pretty well for the family already; but he kept up the 
appearance of bluff good humour, and asked : 

"Well, Oo-koo-hoo, what wad ye be wantin' for the laddies.^ " 

"My grandsons are no bunglers, as you know," said the 
proud old grandsire. "They can each kill at least twenty 
skins' worth of fur." 

"Aye, aye!" rejoined the trader. "I shall e'en gi'e them 
twenty atween them." 

In the goodness of his heart he offered the boys some advice 
as to what they should buy: " Ye'U be wantin' to buy traps, 
I'm jalousin', an' sure ye'U turn oot to be graun' hunters, 
Nimrods o' the North that men'U mak' sangs aboot i' the comin' 
years." He cautioned them to choose wisely, because from 
henceforth they would be personally responsible for everything 
they bought, and must pay, "skin for skin" (the motto of the 
Hudson's Bay Company). 

The boys hstened with gloomy civihty, and then purchased 
an assortment of useless trifles such as ribbons, tobacco, but- 
tons, candy, rings, pomatum, perfume, and Jew's harps. 

The Factor's patience was now ncEu-ly exhausted. He 
picked up his account book, and strode to the door, and held it 
open as a hint to the Indians to leave. But they pretended to 
take no notice of his action. 

The granddaughters, who had been growing more and more 
anxious lest they should be forgotten, now began to be voluble 
in complaint. Oo-koo-hoo called the trader aside and explained 
the trouble. The Factor realized that he was in a corner, and 
that if he now refused further supphes he would offend the old 



22 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

chief, and drive him to sell his best furs to the opposition 
trader in revenge. He surrendered, and the girls received ten 
skins between them. 

At long last everyone was pleased except the unhappy 
Factor. Gathering his purchases together, Oo-koo-hoo tied 
up the powder, shot, tea, and sugar in the legs of the trousers; 
placed the purchases for his wife, daughter, and granddaughters 
in the shawl, and the rest of the goods in the blanket. 

Then he made the discovery that he had neither flour nor 
grease. He could not start without them. The Factor's 
blood was now almost at the boiling pitch, but he dared not 
betray his feelings ; for the Indian was ready to take offence at 
the slightest word, so rich and independent did he feel. Anger- 
ing him now would simply mean adding to the harvest of the 
opposition trader. He chewed his lower lip in the effort to 
smother his disgust, and growled out with an angry grin: 

"Hoots, mon, ye ha'e gotten ower muckle aheady. It's 
fair redeeklus. I jist canna gi'e ye onythin' mair ava!" 

"Ah, but, master, you have forgotten that I am a great 
hunter. And that my son-in-law is a great hunter, too. This 
is but the outfit for a lazy man! Besides, the Great Company 
is rich, and I am poor. If you will be stingy, I shall not trouble 
you more." 

Once again the Factor gave way, and handed out the flour 
and grease. All filed out, and the Factor turned the key in the 
door. As he walked toward the house, his spirits began to rise, 
and he clapped the old Indian on the back good-naturedly. 
Presently Oo-koo-hoo halted in his tracks. He had forgotten 
something: he had nothing in case of sickness. 

"Master, you know my voyage is long; my work is hard; 
the winter is severe. I am not very strong now : I may fall 
ill. My wife — she is not very strong — may fall ill also. My 
son-in-law is not very strong: he may fall ill too. My daugh- 
ter is not. . . ." 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 



23 



"De'il ha'e ye!" roared the Factor, "what is't the noo?" 

"Never mind, it will do to-morrow," muttered the hunter 
with an offended air. 

"As I'm a leevin' sinner, it's noo or it's nivver," insisted 
the Factor, who had no desire to let the Indian have another 
day at it. "Come back this verra minnit, an' I'll gi'e ye a 
wheen poothers an' sic hke, that'll keep ye a' hale and hearty, I 
houp, till ye win hame again." 

The Factor took him back and gave him some salts, pepper- 
mint, pain-killer, and sticking-plaster to offset all the ills that 
might befall him and his party during the next ten months. 

Once more they started for the house. The Factor was 
ready to put up with anything as long as he could get them 
away from the store. Oo-koo-hoo now told the trader not to 
charge anything against his wife as he would settle her account 
himseff, and that as Amik would be back in the morning, he, 
too, would want his advances, and if they had forgotten any- 
thing, Amik could get it next day. 

The Factor scowled again, but it was too late. 

While the Indians lounged around the kitchen and talked 
to the Factor's wife and the half-breed servant girl, the Factor 
went to his office and made out Oo-koo-hoo's bill, which read: 






24 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

The Indian now told the trader that he wanted him to send 
the "Fur Runners" to him with supphes in ten weeks' time; 
and that he must have a "geese-wark," or measure of days, in 
order to know exactly when the Fur Runners would arrive at 
his camp. So the Factor made out the following calendar : 



\-\t iiii)\imiixi 

\V'(S llll>X/imi)^IMM)XmMI XM M 

l\(y6r'iix>Hiiii/.iiiiiixniiu>v«ut?i 



(f^ ^^rvuM. (S/^jo^eAiAx/yA^yajith. 



The above characters to the left are syllabic — a method of 
writing taught to the Indians by the missionaries. They spell 
the words September, October, and November. The I's 
represent week days, and the X's Sundays. The calendar 
begins with the 18th of September, and the crescent marks the 
29th of November, the date of the arrival of the Fur Runners. 
The Indian would keep track of the days by pricking a pin 
hole every day above the proper figure. 

Presently the Factor and I were alone for a few moments 
and he growled : 

"Whit d'ye think o' the auld de'il?" 

"Fine, I'll go with him, if he will take me." 

So I had a talk with the old Indian, and when he learned that 
I had no intention of killing game, but merely wanted to ac- 
company him and his son-in-law on their hunts, he consented 
and we came to terms. I was to be ready to start early on the 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 25 

morning of the 20th. Then Oo-koo-hoo turned to the trader 
and said : 

"Master, it is getting late and it will be later when I reach 
my lodge. I am hungry now, and I shall be hungrier still 
when I get home. I am growing . . ." 

"Aye, aye, ma birkie," interrupted the Factor, "I un'er- 
staun' fine." He bestowed upon the copfident petitioner a 
further gratuity of flour, tea, sugar, and tallow, a clay pipe, a 
plug of tobacco and some matches, so as to save him from 
having to break in upon his winter suppHes before he started 
upon his journey to the hunting grounds. Oo-koo-hoo sol- 
emnly expressed his gratitude: 

" Master, my heart is pleased. You are my father. I shall 
now hunt well, and you shall have all my fur." 

To show his appreciation of the compliment, the Factor gave 
him an old shirt, and wished him good luck. 

In the meantime, Oo-koo-hoo's wife had succeeded in ob- 
taining from the Factor's wife old clothes for her grandchildren, 
needles and thread, and some food. Just as they got ready to 
go, the younger woman, Amik's wife, remembered that the 
baby had brought a duck as a present for the Factor's children 
so they had to give a present in return, worth at least twice as 
much as the duck. 

The Factor and his family were by this time sufficiently 
weary. Right wilhngly did they go down to the landing to see 
the Indians off. No sooner had these taken their places in the 
canoes and paddled a few strokes away than the grandmother 
remembered that she had a present for the Factor and his wife. 
All paddled back again, and the Factor and his wife were each 
presented with a pair of moccasins. No, she would not take 
anything in return, at least, not just now. To-morrow, per- 
haps, when they came to say good-bye. 

"Losh me! I thocht they were aff an' gane," exclaimed 
the trader as he turned and strode up the beach. 



26 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

I inwardly laughed, for any man — red, white, black, or 
yellow — who could make such a hard-headed old Scotsman as 
Donald Mackenzie loosen up, was certainly clever; and the way 
old Oo-koo-hoo made off with such a lot of supplies proved him 
more than a match for the trader. 

THE BEST FUR DISTRICTS 

While we were at supper a perfect roar of gun shots ran 
around the bay and on our rushing to the doorway we saw the 
Inspector's big canoe coming. Up went the flag and more gun 
shots followed. Then we went down to the landing to meet 
Inspecting Chief Factor Bell. 

After supper the newcomer and the Factor and I sat before 
the fire and discussed the fur trade. I liked to listen to the old 
trader, but the Inspector, being the greater traveller of the two, 
covering every year on the rounds of his regular work thou- 
sands upon thousands of miles, was the more interesting talker. 
Presently, when the subject turned to the distribution of the 
fur-bearing animals, Mr. Bell took a case from his bag and 
opening it, spread it out before us upon the Factor's desk. It 
was a map of the Dominion of Canada, on which the names of 
the principal posts of the Hudson's Bay Company were printed 
in red. Across it many irregular lines were drawn in different- 
coloured inks, and upon its margins were many written 
notes. 

"This map, as you see," remarked the Inspector, "defines 
approximately the distribution of the fur-bearing animals of 
Canada, and I'll wager that you have never seen another like 
it; for if it were not for the records of the Hudson's Bay Com- 
pany, no such map could have been compiled. How did I 
manage it? Well, to begin with, you must understand that the 
Indians invariably trade their winter's catch of fur at the 
trading post nearest their hunting grounds; so when the 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 27 

annual returns of all the posts are sent in to the Company's 
headquarters, those returns accurately define the distribution 
of the fur-bearing animals for that year. These irregular 
lines across the map were drawn after an examination of the 
annual returns from all the posts for the last forty years. 
Pubhsh it? No, siree, that would never do!" 

But the Inspector's remarks did not end the subject, as we 
began discussing the greatest breeding grounds of the various 
fur-bearers, and Mr. Bell presently continued: 

"The greatest centre for coloured foxes is near Salt River, 
which flows into Slave River at Fort Smith. There, too, most 
of the black foxes and silver foxes are trapped. The great 
otter and fisher centre is around Trout Lake, Island Lake, 
Sandy Lake, and God's Lake. Otter taken north of Lake 
Superior are fomid to be fully one third larger than those 
killed in any other region. Black bears and brown bears are 
most frequently to be met with between Fort Pelly and Portage 
La Loche. Cumberland House is the centre of the greatest 
breeding grounds for muskrat, mink, and ermine. Manitoba 
House is another great district for muskrat. Lynxes aie found 
in greatest nmnbers in the Iroquois VaUey, in the foothiUs on 
the eastern side of the Rockies. Coyote skins come chiefly 
from the district between Calgary and Qu'Appelle for a hundred 
miles both north and south. Skunks are most plentiful just 
south of Green Lake; formerly, they lived on the plains, but of 
late they have moved northward into the woods. Wolver- 
ines frequent most the timber country just south of the Barren 
Grounds, where they are often found traveUing in bands. The 
home of the porcupine Hes just north of Isle a la Crosse. Forty 
years ago the breeding grounds of the beaver were on the eastern 
side of the Rockies. Nowadays that region is hardly worth 
considering as a trapping ground for them. They have been 
steadily migrating eastward along the Churchill River, then 
by way of Cross Lake, Fort Hope, to Abitibi, thence north- 



28 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

easterly clean across the country to Labrador, where few were 
to be found twenty-five years ago. Don't misunderstand me. 
I'm not saying that beaver were not found in those parts 
years ago, but what I mean is that the source of the greatest 
harvest of beaver skins has moved steadily eastward during 
the last forty years. Strange to say, the finest marten skins 
secured in Canada are not those of the extreme northern limit, 
but those taken on the Parsnip River in British Columbia." 

WANTED, A SON-IN-LAW 

Next morning I busied myself making a few additions to 
my outfit for the winter. Then I borrowed a two-and-a-half 
fathom canoe and paddled across the lake to Spearhead. The 
town I had heard so much about from the Free Trader was 
just a little clearing of about three acres on the edge of the 
forest; in fact, it was really just a stump lot with a small one- 
and-a-half story log house standing in the middle. Where 
there was a rise in the field, a small log stable was set half under- 
ground, and upon its roof was stacked the winter's supply of 
hay for a team of horses, a cow, and a heifer. 

At the front door Mr. and Mrs. Spear welcomed me. My 
hostess was a prepossessing Canadian woman of fair education, 
in fact, she had been a stenographer. On entering the house I 
found the trading room on the right of a tiny hall, on the left 
was the living room, which was also used to eat in, and the 
kitchen was, of course, in the rear. After being entertained 
for ten or fifteen minutes by my host and hostess, I heard fight 
steps descending the stairs, and the next moment I beheld a 
charming girl. She was their only child. They called her 
Athabasca, after the beautiful lake of that name. She was 
sixteen years of age, tall, slender, and graceful, a brunette with 
large, soft eyes and long, flowing, wavy hair. She wore a 
simple little print dress that was becomingly short in the skirt, 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 29 

a pair of black stockings, and low, beaded moccasins. I 
admired her appearance, but regretted her shyness, for she was 
almost as bashful as I was. She bowed and blushed — so did 
I — and while her parents talked to me she sat demurely silent 
on the sofa. Occasionally, I caught from her with pleasant 
embarrassment a shy but fleeting glance. 

Presently, dinner was announced by a half-breed maid, 
and we four took our places at the table, Athabasca opposite 
me. At first the talk was hvely, though only three shared in it. 
Then, as the third seemed rather more interested in his silent 
partner, he would from time to time lose the thread of the dis- 
course. Ry degrees the conversation died down into silence. A 
few minutes later Mrs. Spear suddenly remarked: 

"Father . . . don't you think it would be a good 
thing if you took son-in-law into partnership?" 

Father leaned back, scratched his head for a while, and 
then rephed : 

"Yes, Mother, I do, and FU do it." 

The silent though beautiful Athabasca, without even 
raising her eyes from her plate, blushed violently, and needless 
to say, I blushed, too, but, of course, only out of sympathy. 

"The horses are too busy, just now, to haul the logs, but of 
course the young people could have our spare room until I 
could build them a log shack." 

"Father, that's a capital idea. So there's no occasion for 
any delay whatever. Then, when their house is finished, we 
could spare them a bed, a table, a couple of chairs, and give 
them a new cooking stove." 

Athabasca blushed deeper than ever, and studied her plate 
all the harder, and I began to show interest and prick up my 
ears, for I wondered who on earth son-in-law could he? I 
knew perfectly well there was no young white man in all that 
region, and that even if he hved in the nearest frontier town, it 
would take him, either by canoe or on snowshoes, at least two 



30 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

weeks to make the round trip to Spearhead, just to call on her. 
I couldn't fathom it at all. 

"Besides, Mother, we might give them the heifer, as a 
starter, for she will be ready to milk in the spring. Then, too, 
we might give them a few ducks and geese and perhaps a pig." 

"Excellent idea, Father; besides, I think I could spare enough 
cutlery, dishes, and cooking utensils to help out for a while." 

"And I could lend them some blankets from the store," 
the trader returned. 

But at that moment Athabasca miscalculated the distance 
to her mouth and dropped a bit of potato on the floor, and when 
she stooped to recover it, I caught a glance from the corner 
of her eye. It was one of those indescribable glances that 
girls give. I remember it made me perspire all over. Queer, 
isn't it, the way women sometimes affect one.*^ I would have 
blushed more deeply, but by that time there was no possible 
chance of my face becoming any redder, notwithstanding the 
fact that I was a red-head. Ponder as I would, I couldn't 
fathom the mystery . . . who Son-in-law could be . . . 
though I had already begun to think him a lucky fellow — quite 
one to be envied. 

Then Mrs. Spear exclaimed, as we rose from the table: 

"Good! . . . Then that's settled . . . you'll take 
him into partnership, and I'm glad, for I like him, and I think 
he'll make an excellent trader." 

Our getting away from the table rather reheved me, as I 
was dripping perspiration, and I wanted to fairly mop my face — 
of course, when they weren't looking. 

Together they showed me over the estabhshment : the spare 
bedroom, the trading shop, the stable, the heifer, the ducks and 
geese, and even the pig — though it puzzled me why they singled 
out the very one they intended giving Son-in-law. The silent 
though beautiful Athabasca followed a few feet behind as 
we went the rounds, and inspected the wealth that was to be 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 31 

bestowed upon her lover. I was growing more inquisitive 
than ever as to who Son-in-law might be. Indeed, I felt hke 
asking, but was really too shy, and besides, when I thought it 
over, I concluded it was none of my business. 

When the time came for me to return to the Hudson's Bay 
Post, I shook hands with them all — ^Athabasca had nice hands 
and a good grip, too. Her parents gave me a pressing invita- 
tion to visit them again for a few days at New Year's, when 
everyone in the country would be going to the great winter 
festival that was always held at Fort Consolation. As I 
paddled away I mused: 

"By George, Son-in-law is certainly a lucky dog, for Atha- 
basca's a peach . . . but I don't see how in thunder her 
lover ever gets a chance to call." 

LEAVING FORT CONSOLATION 

I was up early next morning and as I wished to see how 
Oo-koo-hoo and his party would pack up and board their 
canoes, I walked round the bay to the Indian village. After a 
hasty breakfast, the women pulled down the lodge coverings of 
sheets of birch bark and rolhng them up placed them upon the 
star-chi-gan — the stage — along with other things which they 
intended leaving behind. The lodge poles were left standing in 
readiness for their return next summer, and it wasn't long be- 
fore all their worldly goods — save their skin tepees and most of 
their traps, which had been left on their last winter's hunting 
grounds — were placed aboard their three canoes, and off they 
paddled to the Post, to say good-bye, while Amik secured his 
advances. 

Just think of it, all you housekeepers — no gold plate or silver- 
ware to send to the vault, no bric-a-brac to pack, no furniture to 
cover, no bedding to put away, no rugs or furs or clothes to send 
to cold storage, no servants to wrangle with or discharge, 



32 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

no plumbers to swear over, no janitors to cuss at, no, not even 
any housecleaning to do before you depart — ^just move and 
nothing more. Just dump a little outfit into a canoe and then 
paddle away from all your tiresome environment, and travel 
wherever your heart dictates, and then settle down where not 
even an exasperating neighbour could find you. What would 
you give to live such a peaceful hfe? 

"As I understand it," says Thoreau, "that was a vahd ob- 
jection urged by Momus against the house which Minerva 
made, that she had not made it movable, by which means a bad 
neighbourhood might be avoided; and it may still be urged, for 
our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often 
imprisoned rather than housed in them; and the bad neighbour- 
hood to be avoided is our own scurvy selves." 

On their arrival, Auuk at once set about getting his ad- 
vances. He was a stalwart, athletic-looking man of about 
thirty-five, but not the equal of his father-in-law in character. 
Oo-koo-hoo now told the Factor just where he intended to 
himt, what fur he expected to get, and how the fur runners 
could best find his camp. As the price of fur had risen, the 
Factor told him what price he expected to pay. If, however, 
the price had dropped, the Factor would not have informed the 
hunter until his return next year. During the course of the 
conversation, the old hunter begged the loan of a second-hand 
gun and some traps for the use of his grandsons; and the 
Factor granted his request. 

In the meantime, the women called upon the clergyman and 
the priest and the nuns to wish them farewell, and incidentally 
to do a little more begging. As they were not ready to go by 
noon, the Factor's wife spread a cloth upon the kitchen floor, 
and placed upon it some food for the party. After lunch 
they actually made ready to depart, and everybody came down 
to the landing to see us off. As the children and dogs scrambled 
aboard the canoes, the older woman remembered that she had 



ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 33 

not been paid for her gift of moccasins, and so another delay 
took place while the Factor selected a suitable present. It is 
always thus. Then, at last, the canoes push off. Amid the 
waving of hands, the shouting of farewells, and the shedding of a 
few tears even, the simple natives of the wilderness paddled 
away over the silent lake en route for their distant hunting 
grounds. 

Thither the reader must follow, and there, amid the fastnesses 
of the Great Northern Forest, he must spend the winter if he 
would see the Indian at his best. There he is a beggar no 
longer. There, escaped from the civihzation which the white 
man is ever forcing upon the red — a civihzation which rarely 
fails to make a degenerate of him — he proves his manhood. 
There, contrary to the popular idea, he will be found to be a 
diligent and skilful worker and an affectionate husband and 
father. There, given health and game, no toil and no hardship 
will hinder him from procuring fur enough to pay off his in- 
debtedness, and to lay up in store twice as much again with 
which to engage next spring in the dehghtful battle of wits be- 
tween white man and red in the Great Company's trading 
room. 



II 

IN QUEST OF TREASURE 

THE PERFECT FOOL 

It was an ideal day and the season and the country were in 
keeping. Soon the trading posts faded from view, and when, 
after trolling around Fishing Point, we entered White River 
and went ashore for an early supper, everyone was smiling. 
I revelled over the prospect of work, freedom, contentment, 
and beauty before me; and over the thought of leaving behind 
me the last vestige of the white man's ugly, hypercritical, and 
oppressive civihzation. 

Was it any wonder I was happy? For me it was but the be- 
ginning of a never-to-be-forgotten journey in a land where a 
man can be a man without the aid of money. Yes . . . 
without money. And that reminds me of a white man I knew 
who was born and bred in the Great Northern Forest, and who 
supported and educated a family of twelve, and yet he reached 
his sixtieth birthday without once having handled or ever hav- 
ing seen money. He was as generous, as refined, and as noble 
a man as one would desire to know; yet when he visited civili- 
zation for the first time — in his sixty-first year — he was reviled 
because he had a smile for all, he was swindled because he knew 
no guile, he was robbed because he trusted everyone, and he was 
arrested because he manifested brotherly love toward his fellow- 
creatures. Our vaunted civihzation! It was the regret of his 
dechning years that circumstances prevented him from leaving 
the enhghtened Christians of the cities, and going back to five in 
peace among the honest, kindly hearted barbarians of the forest. 

34 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 35 

Soon there were salmon-trout — fried to a golden brown — 
crisp bannock, and tea for all; then a little re-adjusting of the 
packs, and we were again at the paddles. Oo-koo-hoo's wife, 
Ojistoh, along with her second granddaughter and her two 
grandsons, occupied one of the three-and-a-half fathom canoes ; 
Amik, and his wife, Naudin, with her baby and eldest daughter, 
occupied the other; and Oo-koo-hoo and I paddled together in 
the two-and-a-half fathom canoe. One of the five dogs — 
Oo-koo-hoo's best hunter — travelled with us, while the other 
four took passage in the other canoes. Although the going was 
now up stream — the same river by which I had come — ^we 
made fair speed until Island Lake stretched before us, when we 
felt a southwest wind that threatened trouble; but by making 
a long detour about the bays of the southwestern shore the 
danger vanished. Arriving at the foot of the portage trail at 
Bear Rock Rapids, we carried our outfit to a cliff above, which 
afforded an excellent camping ground; and there arose the 
smoke of our evening fire. The cloudless sky giving no sign of 
rain, we contented ourselves with laying mattresses of balsam 
brush upon which to sleep. While the sunset glow still filled 
the western sky, we heard a man's voice shouting above the 
roar of the rapids, and on going to the brink, saw a "York 
boat" in the act of shooting the cataract. It was one of the 
boats of "The Goods Brigade" transporting supplies for the 
northern posts of the Hudson's Bay Company. As the craft 
measured forty feet in length and was manned by eight men, 
it was capable of carrying about seventy packs, each weighing 
about a hundred pounds. But of these boat brigades — ^more 
in due season. 

After supper, when twilight was deepening, and tobacco — in 
the smoking of which the women conscientiously joined — was 
freely forthcoming, the subject of conversation turned to wood- 
craft. Since it fell to Oo-koo-hoo, as the principal hunter, to 
keep the party supphed with game while en route, I was won- 



36 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

dering what he would do in case he saw a bear and went ashore 
to trail it. Would he himself skin and cut up the bear, or would 
he want the women to help him? If the latter, what sign or 
signal would he use so that they might keep in touch with him? 
But when I questioned Oo-koo-hoo, he replied : 

" My white son" — for that is what he sometimes called me — 
" I see you are just like all white men, but if you are observant 
and listen to those who are wiser than you, you may some day 
rank almost the equal of an Indian." 

Afterward, when I became better acquainted with him, I 
learned that with regard to white men in general, he held the 
same opinion that all Indians do, and that is, that they are per- 
fect fools. When I agreed with the old gentleman, and assured 
him he was absolutely right, and that the biggest fool I ever 
knew was the one who was talking to him, he laughed outright, 
and rephed that now he knew that I was quite different from 
most white men, and that he beheved some day I would be the 
equal of an Indian. When I first heard his opinion of white 
men, I regarded him as a pretty sane man, but afterward, when 
I tried to get him to include not only his brother Indians, but 
also himself under the same definition, I could not get him to 
agree with me, therefore I was disappointed in him. He was 
not the philosopher I had at first taken him to be ; for life has 
taught me that all men are fools — of one kind or another. 

OO-KOO-HOO'S WOODCRAFT 

But to return to woodcraft. Emerson says: "Men are 
naturally hunters and inquisitive of woodcraft, and I suppose 
that such a gazetteer as wood-cutters and Indians should fur- 
nish facts for would take place in the most sumptuous drawing 
rooms of all the 'Wreaths' and 'Flora's Chaplets' of the book- 
shops" and beheving that to be true, I shall therefore teU you 
not only how my Indian friends managed to keep their bearings 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 37 

while travelling without a compass, but how, without the aid of 
writing, they continued to leave various messages for their 
companions. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo how he would signal, 
in case he went ashore to trail game — when the other canoes 
were out of sight behind him — and he should want someone to 
follow him to help carry back the meat, he rephed that he would 
cut a small bushy-topped sapling and plant it upright in the 
river near his landing place on the shore. That, he said, would 
signify that he wished his peirty to go ashore and camp on the 
first good camping ground; while, at the same time, it would 
warn them not to kindle a fire until they had first examined the 
tracks to make sure whether the smoke would frighten the 
game. Then someone would follow his trail to render him 
assistance, providing they saw that he had blazed a tree. If 
he did not want them to follow him, he would shove two sticks 
into the ground so that they would slant across the trail in the 
form of an X, but if he wanted them to follow he would blaze 
a tree. If he wanted them to hurry, he would blaze the same 
tree twice. If he wanted them to follow as fast as they could 
with caution, he would blaze the same tree three times, but if 
he desired them to abandon all caution and to follow with all 
speed, he would cut a long blaze and tear it off. 

Then, again, if he were leaving the game trail to circle his 
quarry, and if he wished them to follow his tracks instead of 
those of the game, he would cut a long blaze on one tree and a 
small one on another tree, which would signify that he had 
left the game trail at a point between the two trees and that 
they were to follow his tracks instead of those of the game. 
But if he wished them to stop and come no farther, he would 
drop some article of his clothing on the trail. Should, however, 
the game trail happen to cross a muskeg where there were no 
trees to blaze, he would place moss upon the bushes to answer 
instead of blazes, and in case the ground was hard and left an 
invisible trail, he would cut a stick and shoving the smaU end 



38 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

into the trail, would slant the butt in the direction he had 
gone. 

If traversing water where there were no saplings at hand, and 
he wished to let his followers know where he had left the water 
to cross a muskeg, he would try to secure a pole, which he would 
leave standing in the water, with grass protruding from the 
split upper end, and the pole slanting to show in which direc- 
tion he had gone. If, on the arrival at the fork of a river, he 
wished to let his followers know up which fork he had paddled — 
say, for instance, if it were the right one — he would shove a 
long stick into either bank of the left fork in such a way that it 
would point straight across the channel of the left fork, to 
signify, as it were, that the channel was blocked. Then, a 
little farther up the right fork, he would plant a sapling or pole 
in the water, slanting in the direction he had gone — to prove to 
the follower that he was now on the right trail. Oo-koo-hoo 
further explained that if he were about to cross a lake and he 
wished to let his follower know the exact point upon which he 
intended to land, he would cut two poles, placing the larger 
nearest the woods and the smaller nearest the water, both in 
an upright position and in an exact line with the point to which 
he was going to head, so that the follower by taking sight from 
one pole to the other would learn the exact spot on the other 
shore where he should land — even though it were several miles 
away. But if he were not sure just where he intended to land, 
he would cut a willow branch and twist it into the form of a 
hoop and hang it upon the smaller pole — that would signify 
that he might land at any point of the surrounding shore of 
the lake. 

If he wanted to signal his family to camp at any particular 
point along his trail, he would leave some article of his clothing 
and place near it a number of sticks standing in the form of the 
poles of a lodge, thus suggesting to them that they should erect 
their tepee upon that spot. If he had wounded big game and 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 39 

expected soon to overtake and kill it, and if he wanted help to 
carry back the meat, he would blaze a tree and upon that 
smooth surface would make a sketch, either with knife or char- 
coal, of the animal he was pursuing. If a full day had elapsed 
since the placing of crossed sticks over the trail, the follower 
would abandon all caution and follow at top speed, as he would 
realize that some misfortmie had befallen the hunter. The 
second man, or follower, however, never blazes trees as he 
trails the first hunter, but simply breaks off twigs or bends 
branches in the direction in which he is going, so that should it 
be necessEiry that a third man should also follow, he could 
readily distinguish the difference between the two trails. If a 
hunter wishes to leave a good trail over a treeless district, he, as 
far as possible, chooses soft ground and treads upon his 
heels. 

When a hunter is trailing an animal, he avoids stepping 
upon the animal's trail, so that should it be necessary for him 
to go back and re-trail his quarry, the animal's tracks shall not 
be obliterated. If, in circHng about his quarry, the hunter 
should happen to cut his own trail, he takes great care to cut it 
at right angles, so that, should he have to circle several times, 
he may never be at a loss to know which was his original trail. 
If the hunter should wish to leave a danger signal behind him, 
he will take two saphngs, one from either side of the trail, and 
twist them together in such a way that they shall block the 
passage of the follower, requiring him to pause in order to dis- 
entangle them or to pass around them ; and if the hunter were 
to repeat such a signal two or three times, it would signify that 
the follower should use great caution and circle doAvn wind in 
order to still-hmit the hunter's trail in exactly the same way 
he would still-hunt a moose. Then, again, if the hunter should 
wish to let the follower know the exact time of day he had 
passed a certain spot, he would draw on the earth or snow a 
bow with an arrow placed at right angles to the bow, but point- 



40 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

ing straight in the direction where the sun had been at that 
precise moment. 

THE bear's deduction 

Owing to their knowledge of wood-craft some Indians are 
very clever at deduction. 

On Great Slave Lake near Fort Rae an Indian cripple, 
named Simpson's Brother, had joined a party of canoe-men for 
the purpose of hunting eggs. After paddUng toward a group of 
islands, the party separated, finally landing on different isles. 
They had agreed, however, to meet at sunset on a certain 
island and there eat and sleep together. While at work sev- 
eral of the Indians saw Simpson's Brother alone on a Httle 
rocky islet, busily engaged in gathering eggs. Toward even- 
ing, the party met at their rendezvous and took supper to- 
gether, but strange to say, Simpson's Brother did not appear. 
After smoking and talking for a while, some grew anxious about 
the cripple. The Bear began to fear lest some mishap had 
befallen him; but The Caribou scoffed at the idea: he was sure 
that Simpson's Brother was still working and that he would 
soon return with more eggs than any of them. The Bear, how- 
ever, thought they ought to search for him, as his canoe might 
have drifted away. But The Mink replied that if anything 
hke that had happened, the cripple would certainly have fired 
his gun. "But how could he fire his gun if his canoe had drifted 
away?" asked The Bear, "for would not his gun be in his 
canoe?" So they all paddled off to investigate the mystery. 
On nearing the island, they saw the Brother's canoe adrift. 
When they overhauled it, sure enough his gun was aboard. 
They then landed on the httle isle where the cripple had been 
at work and began caUing aloud for him. As they received no 
answer, some of the Indians claimed that he must be asleep. 
The Bear rephed that if he was asleep their shouting would 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 41 

have awakened him and he would have answered, but that now 
they had best search the island. 

So they divided into two parties and searched the shore in 
different directions until they finally met on the other side, 
then they scattered and examined every nook and corner of the 
place — but all in vain. Some now contended that the others 
were mistaken, and that that could not be the island on which 
the Brother had been working; but The Bear — though he had 
not seen the cripple there — insisted that it was. They asked 
him to prove it. 

"The wind has been blowing steadily from the north," 
rephed The Bear, "the other islands are all south of this one, 
and you know that we found his canoe adrift south of here 
and north of all the other islands. That is sufiicient proof." 
Then he added: "The reason Simpson's Brother did not 
answer is because he is not on the island, but in the water." 

Again they all clamoured for proof and The Bear answered: 
"But first I must find where he landed, and the quickest way to 
find that place is to remember that the wind was blowing too 
strong for him to land on the north shore, and that the running 
swells were too strong for him to land on either the east or west 
sides, therefore he landed on the south side — the sheltered side. 
Now let us go and see where he drew up his canoe." 

But one of the others argued that that would be impossible 
as Simpson's Brother was not such a fool as to act hke a white 
man and drag his canoe over the rocks. The Bear, however, 
persisted that there would be some sign, at least where the bow 
touched shore when the cripple got out, and that he, The Bear, 
would go and find it. But first he would go and examine the 
nests to learn from which of them the cripple had removed the 
eggs. Thus they would learn where he had been working; and 
the finding of the landing place would be made easier. So The 
Bear set to work. From the empty nests he soon learned 
where the cripple had been working, and after a careful search 



42 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

he presently found on a big rock a little white spot no larger 
than a man's finger nail. 

"There, my friends, is where Simpson's Brother landed, for 
that white mark is of gum and proves where the bow of the 
canoe bumped the rock." 

They then asked The Bear where he thought the cripple was, 
and pointing, he replied : 

"If we search long enough we shall find him in the deep 
water down there; for when Simpson's Brother was getting 
aboard his canoe, he slipped and in falling struck his head upon 
the rock; the blow stunned him, and without a struggle he slid 
into the water, and was drowned." 

When they had brought their canoes round and had peered 
into the deep water, true enough, they discovered the body on 
the bottom of the lake. Securing a long pole, they fastened a 
gun worm to one end and, reaching down, twisted it into the 
cripple's clothing and brought the body to the surface. Sadly 
they placed it in the unfortunate man's canoe, towed the craft 
and its burden to the other island, and sent to Fort Rae for the 
priest, Father Roure, to come and perform the burial service. 

BEASTS WITH HUMAN SOULS 

Next morning we arose with dawn. After a hearty break- 
fast of fish — taken from the gill-net that had been set over- 
night below the rapid — the work of portaging round the rapids 
was begun and by about ten o'clock was finished. Noon over- 
took us near the mouth of Caribou River, up wliich we were to 
ascend on the first half of our journey to Oo-koo-hoo's hunting 
grounds. About two o'clock we entered that stream and 
headed westerly toward a spur of mountains that lay about a 
week's travel away and through which we had to pass to gain 
our winter camping ground. An hour later, as Oo-koo-hoo and 
I preceded the party, paddling up one of the channels caused 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 43 

by a number of large islands dividing the river into mere 
creeks, we chanced upon a woodland caribou bull, as it stood 
among the rushes in a marshy bend watching us from a distance 
of not more than forty yards. As I crouched down to be out of 
the hunter's way, I heard bun say : 

"I'm sorry, my brother, but we need you for both food and 
clothing, so turn your eyes away before I fire." The next 
moment the woods echoed the report of his smooth-bore muzzle- 
loader — the kind of gun used by about 90 per cent, of the 
fur hunters of the forest. WhyP Because of the simplicity of 
its ammunition. Such a gun never requires a variety of cum- 
bersome shells for different kinds of game, but with varying 
charges of powder and shot or ball, is ready for anything from a 
rat or duck to a bear or moose. 

Before bleeding the deer, Oo-koo-hoo did a curious thing: 
with his sharp knife he destroyed the deer's eyes. When I 
questioned him as to his purpose he replied: "As long as the 
eyes remain perfect, the spirit remains within the head, and 
I could not bear to skin the deer with its spirit looldng at me." 
Though Oo-koo-hoo was in many ways a wise old man, he held 
some beliefs that were past my understanding, and others that, 
when I tried to analyze them, seemed to be founded on the 
working of a sensitive conscience. 

Hearing the report of the gun, the others hurried to the 
scene. While the deer was being bled the old grandmother 
caught the blood in a pail — into which she threw a pinch of salt 
to clot the blood — as she wished to use it for the making of a 
blood pudding. Then the carcass was loaded aboard Oo-koo- 
hoo's canoe, rather, indeed, overloading it. Accordingly, I 
accepted Amik's invitation to board his craft, and at the first 
good place we all went ashore to clear the ground for the 
night's camp. There was a porcupine there, and though it 
moved but slowly away, my friends did not kill it, for they had 
plenty to eat, and did not want to be bothered with taking care 



44 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of those dangerous little quills that the women dye and use to 
such good advantage in their fancy work. As to the Indian 
method of dressing meat and skins — more anon, when we are 
finally settled upon the fur trail. 

That evening, while flames were leaping after ascending 
sparks, and shadows were dancing behind us among the trees, 
we lounged about the fire on packs and blankets and discussed 
the events of the day. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo why he had 
addressed the deer in such a manner, he replied that it was the 
proper and regular way to speak to an animal, because every 
creature in the forest, whether beast, bird, or fish, contedned 
the spirit of some former human being. He further explained 
that whenever the men of the olden time killed an unusually 
large animal with an extra fine coat, they did not save the skin 
to sell to the trader, but burnt the carcass, pelt and all, and in 
that way they returned the body to the spirit again. Thus 
they not only paid homage to the spirit, but proved them- 
selves unselfish men. He went on to say that from the time 
of the Great, Great Long Ago, the Indian had always believed — 
as he did to-day — that every bull moose contained the 
spirit of a famous Indian chief, that every caribou bull con- 
tained the spirit of a lesser chief, and so on down through the 
whole of the animal creation. Bears, however, or rather the 
spirits animating them, possessed the greatest power to render 
good or evil, and for that reason the hunter usually took the 
greatest care to address Bruin properly before he slew him. 

It is no wonder that the Indians still retain such ideas when, 
as Lord Avebury says: "We do not now, most of us, believe 
that animals have souls, and yet probably the majority of 
mankind from Buddha to Wesley and Kingsley have done so." 

Another thing Oo-koo-hoo told me was that out of respect 
to the dignified spirit possessed by the bull moose, women were 
never allowed to eat of the head, nor was a moose head to be 
placed upon a sled upon which a woman had ever sat; for if 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 45 

that were done, bad luck would follow the hunter to the end 
of his days. He knew of a hunter who on one occasion had 
been guilty of that irreverence; afterward, whenever that 
hunter would see a moose, the moose — instead of trying to 
escape — would indifferently bark at him, and even follow him 
back close to camp; and when that hunter would go out again, 
other moose would do the very same thing. Moreover, the 
hunter was afraid to kill any moose that acted that way, for he 
well knew that the animal was simply warning him of some 
great danger that was surely going to befaU him. So, in the 
end, the hunter fretted himself to death. Therefore every 
hunter should take great care to burn all the bones of a moose's 
head and never on any account allow a woman to eat thereof 
or to feed it to the dogs. In burning the head, the hunter was 
merely paying the homage due to so noble a creature. 

Again, a hunter might find that though he had formerly 
been a good moose hunter, and had always observed every 
custom, yet he now utterly failed to secure a moose at all. He 
might come upon plenty of tracks, but the moose would always 
escape, and prove the efforts of an experienced moose hunter 
of no more avail than those of a greenhorn. In such a case, 
there was but one thing to do, and that was to secure the 
whole skin — head, legs, and all — of a fawn, stuff it into its 
natural shape, set it up in the woods, wait till the new moon 
was in the first crescent, and then, just after sundown, engage a 
young girl to shoot five arrows at it from the regular hunting 
distance. If she missed, it was proof that the spirit had 
rejected the girl, and that another would have to be secured to 
do the shooting. If success were then attained, the hunter 
might go upon his hunt, well knowing he would soon be re- 
warded by bringing down a moose. Of course such ideas seem 
strange to us, but, after all, are we in a position to ridicule the 
Indians' behef ? I think not, if we but recall the weird ideas 
our ancestors held. 



46 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

The Indian, like the white man, has many superstitions, 
some ugly, and some beautiful, and of the latter class, I quote 
one: he believes that the spirits of still-born children or very 
young infants talve flight, when they die, and enter the bodies 
of birds. A delightful thought — especially for the mother. 
For as Kingsley says of St. Francis, "perfectly sure that he 
himself was a spiritual being, he thought it at least possible that 
birds might be spiritual beings likewise, incarnate hke himself 
in mortal flesh; and saw no degradation to the dignity of human 
nature in claiming kindred lovingly, with creatures so beautiful, 
so wonderful, who praised God in the forest, even as angels did 
in heaven." 

The forest Indian, however, is not content with merely 
stating that the spirits of infants enter birds; but he goes on to 
say that while the spirits of Indian children always enter the 
beings of the finest singers and the most beautiful of all the 
birds, the spirits of the children of white people enter the bodies 
of stupid, ugly birds that just squawk around, and are neither 
interesting to look at nor pleasant to listen to, but are quarrel- 
some, and thievish. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo to name a few 
birds into which the spirits of white children entered, he men- 
tioned, among others, the woodpecker — which the Indians 
consider to have, proportionately, the longest and sharpest 
tongue of all birds. That reminds me of the reply I received 
from one of the characters in this book, when I wrote him, 
among others, requesting that he grant me permission to make 
use of his name, in order to add authority to my text. Like 
others, he begged me to refrain from quoting his name, as he 
was afraid that the information he had given me might be the 
cause of the Hudson's Ray Company stopping his pension. I 
had suggested that he refer the matter to his wife as she, too, 
figures in this story, and the following is part of his reply: 
"This being an afi'air between you and I — I have not consulted 
my wife. For as you know, the human female tongue is very 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 47 

similar to that of the female woodpecker: unusually long, and 
much too pointed to be of any use." 

THE HONESTY OF INDIANS 

But to return to the Indian's reproach of the white man's 
dishonesty; when he states that the spirits of white children 
enter only those birds that are counted great thieves, one can- 
not wonder at it, for as far as honesty is concerned, a comparison 
between the forest Indian and the white man brands the latter 
as a thief. Not only is that the private opinion of all the old 
fur traders I have met, but I could quote many other authorities; 
let two, however, suffice: Charles Mair, the author of "Te- 
cumseh," and a member of the Indian Treaty Expedition of 
1899, says: 

"The writer, and doubtless some of his readers, can recall the 
time when to go to ' Peace River ' seemed almost hke going to 
another sphere, where, it was conjectured, life was lived very 
differently from that of civilized man. And, truly, it was to 
enter into an unfamiliar state of things; a region in which a 
primitive people, not without fault or depravities, lived on 
Nature's food, and throve on her unfailing harvest of fur. A 
region in which they often left their beaver, silver fox, or marten 
packs — the envy of Fashion — lying by the dog-trail, or hang- 
ing to some sheltering tree, because no one stole, and took 
their fellow's word without question, because no one lied. A 
very simple folk indeed, in whose language profanity was un- 
known, and who had no desire to leave their congenital soH- 
tudes for any other spot on earth : sohtudes which so charmed 
the educated minds who brought the white man's rehgion, or 
traffic, to their doors, that, like the Lotus-eaters, they, too, felt 
httle craving to depart. Yet they were not regions of sloth or 
idleness, but of necessary toil; of the laborious chase and the 
endless activities of aboriginal life: the regions of a people 



48 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

familiar with its fauna and flora — of skilled but unconscious 
naturalists, who knew no science . . . But theft such as 
white men practice was a puzzle to these people, Eimongst whom 
it was unknown." 

Another example worth quoting is taken from Sir WiUiam 
Butler's "The Wild North Land": 

"The 'Moose That Walks' arrived at Hudson's Hope early 
in the spring. He was sorely in want of gunpowder and shot, 
for it was the season when the beaver leave their winter houses 
and when it is easy to shoot them. So he carried his thirty 
martens' skins to the fort, to barter them for shot, powder, and 
tobacco. 

"There was no person at the Hope. The dwelling-house 
was closed, the store shut up, the man in charge had not yet 
come up from St. John's; now what was to be done.*^ Inside 
that wooden house lay piles and piles of aU that the 'Moose 
that Walks' most needed. There was a whole keg of powder; 
there were bags of shot, and tobacco — there was as much as the 
Moose could smoke in his whole life. 

"Through a rent in the parchment window the Moose looked 
at all those wonderful things, and at the red flannel shirts, and 
at the four flint guns and the spotted cotton handerchiefs, 
each worth a sable skin at one end of the fur trade, half a six- 
pence at the other. There was tea, too — tea, that magic 
medicine before which life's cares vanished hke snow in spring 
sunshine. 

"The Moose sat down to think about all these things, but 
thinking only made matters worse. He was short of ammuni- 
tion, therefore he had no food, and to think of food when one is 
very hungry is an unsatisfactory business. It is true that the 
Moose that Walks had only to walk in through that parch- 
ment window and help himself until he was tired. But no, 
that would not do. 

"'Ah,' my Christian friend will exclaim, 'Ah, yes, the poor 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 49 

Indian had known the good missionary, and had learnt the 
lesson of honesty and respect for his neighbour's property.' 

"Yes; he had learnt the lesson of honesty, but his teacher, 
my friend, had been other than human. The good missionary 
had never reached the Hope of Hudson, nor improved the 
morals of the Moose That Walks. 

" But let us go on. After waiting two days he determined to 
set off for St. John's, two full days' travel. He set out, but his 
heart failed him, and he turned back again. 

"At last, on the fourth day, he entered the parchment win- 
dow, leaving outside his comrade, to whom he jealously denied 
admittance. Then he took from the cask of powder three 
skins' worth, from the tobacco four skins' worth, from the shot 
the same; and sticking the requisite number of martens' skins 
in the powder barrel and the shot bag and the tobacco case, he 
hung up his remaining skins on a nail to the credit of his ac- 
count, and departed from this El Dorado, this Bank of England 
of the Red Man in the wilderness. And when it was all over 
he went his way, thinking he had done a very reprehensible 
act, and one by no means to be proud of." 

If it were necessary further to establish the honesty of the 
forest Indian, I could add many proofs from my own experience, 
but one will suffice : 

Years ago, during my first visit to the Hudson's Bay Post 
on Lake Temagami, when the only white man hving in all that 
beautiful region was old Malcohn MacLean, a "freeman" of 
the H. B. Co., who had married an Indian woman and become 
a trapper, I was invited to be the guest of the half-breed 
Hudson's Bay trader, Johnnie Turner, and was given a bedroom 
in his log house. The window of my room on the ground floor 
was always left wide open, and in fact was never once closed 
during my stay of a week or more. Inside my room, a foot from 
the open window, a hdless cigar box was nailed to the wall, yet 
it contained a heap of bills of varying denominations — ones, 



50 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

fives, and tens, and even twenties; how much in all I don't 
know for I never had the curiosity to count them — though, at 
the time, I guessed that there were many hundreds of dollars. 
It was the trader's bank. Nevertheless, beside that open win- 
dow was the favourite lounging place of all the Indian trappers 
and hunters who visited the Post, and during my stay a group 
of Indians that numbered from three or four to thirty or forty 
were daily loitering in the shade within a few feet of that open 
window. Sometimes, when I was in my room, they would 
even intrude their heads and shoulders through the window and 
talk to me. Several times I saw them glance at the heap of 
money, but they no more thought of touching it than I did; 
yet day or night it could have been taken with the greatest 
ease, and the thief never discovered — but, of course, there 
wasn't a thief in all that region. 

But now that the white man has made Lake Temagami a 
fashionable summer resort, and the civilized Christians flock 
there from New York, Toronto, Pittsburgh, and Montreal, 
how long would the trader's money remain in an open box 
beside an open window on a dark night? 

TRACKING UP RAPIDS 

After breakfast next morning, while ascending Caribou River, 
we encountered a series of rapids that extended for nearly a 
quarter of a mile. Here and there, in midstream, rocks pro- 
truded above the foaming water, and from their leeward ends 
flowed eddying currents of back water that from their dark, 
undulating appearance rather suggested that every boulder 
possessed a tail. It was always for those long, flowing tails 
that the canoes were steered in their slow upward struggle 
from one rock to another; for each tail formed a little harbour 
in which the canoe could not only make easier headway, but 
also might hover for a moment while the paddlers caught their 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 51 

breath. Then out again they would creep, and once more the 
battle would rage and, working with might and main, the 
paddlers would force the canoe gradually ahead and over into 
the eddy of another boulder. Sometimes the water would 
leap over the gunwales and come aboard with a savage hiss. 
At other times the canoes seemed to become discouraged and, 
with their heads almost buried beneath the angry, spitting 
waves, would balk in midstream and not move forward so 
much as a foot to the minute. It was dangerous work, for if 
at any time a canoe became inclined across the current, even 
to the slightest degree, it might be rolled over and over, hke a 
barrel descending an inchne. Dangerous work it was, but it 
was interesting to see how powerfully the Indians propelled 
their canoes, how skilfully they guided them, and how adroitly 
even the little children handled their paddles. However, we 
landed safely at the head of the rapids, and upon going ashore 
to drsdn the canoes, partook of a refreshing snack of tea and 
bannock. Then to the canoes again. The aspect of the river 
was now very beautiful, beautiful enough to ponder over and 
to dream, so we took it easy. While pipes were going we 
gazed, in peace and restfulness, at the reflections, for they were 
wonderful. 

After dinner we encountered another rapid, but though it 
was much shorter than the former, the current ran too strong 
to attempt the ascent with the aid of only paddles or poles. 
The northern tripper has the choice between five methods of 
circumventing "white waters," and his selection depends upon 
the strength of the current: first, paddling; second, poling; third, 
wading ; fourth, tracking ; and fifth, portaging. You are already 
famihar with the method of paddfing, and also with that of 
portaging, and a description of poling will shortly follow. 
Wading is resorted to only when the trippers, unprovided with 
poles, have been defeated in their effort to ascend with no other 
aid than their paddles. Then they leap overboard and seizing 



52 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

hold of the gunwales drag the craft up the rapids before it can 
be overcome by the turbulent water, and either driven down 
stream or capsized. Again, when the trippers encounter, in 
shallow water, such obstacles as jammed timbers, wading 
allows them carefully to ease their craft aroimd or over the 
obstruction. 

When tracking their six-fathom canoes, or "York boats," 
or "sturgeon scows," the voyageurs of the north brigades use 
very long hues, one end of which is attached to the bow of the 
craft while to the other end is secured a leather harness of 
bre£ist straps called otapanapi into which each hauler adjusts 
himself. Thus, while the majority of the crew land upon 
the shore and, so harnessed, walk off briskly in single file along 
the river bank, their mates aboard endeavour, with the aid of 
either paddles, sweeps, or poles, to keep the craft in a safe 
channel. 

In the present instance we had to resort to tracking, but it 
was of a light character, for the canoes were not too heavily 
loaded, nor was the current too strong for us to make fair 
headway along the rough, pathless bank of the wild httle stream. 
In each canoe one person remained aboard to hold the bow 
off shore with a paddle or pole, while the others scrambled 
along the river bank, either to help haul upon a hne, or, in the 
case of the younger children and the dogs, simply to walk in 
order to reheve the craft of their weight and also for safety's 
sake, should the canoe overturn. The greatest danger is for the 
steersman to lose control and allow the canoe to get out of hne 
with the current, as the least headway in a wrong direction is 
apt to capsize it. 

With us all went well until a scream from the children an- 
nounced that Ah-ging-goos, the second son, had fallen in, and 
anxiety reigned until the well-drenched Chipmunk partly 
crawled and was partly hauled ashore; and then laughter 
echoed in the river valley, for The Chipmunk was at times 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 53 

much given to frisking about and showing off, and this time 
he got his reward. 

But before we had ascended half the length of the rapids 
we encountered the usual troubles that overtake the tracker — 
those of clearing our hues of trees and bushes, slipping into the 
muck of small inlets, stumbhng over stones, cutting the lines 
upon sharp rocks, or having them caught by gnarled roots of 
driftwood. As we approached the last lap of white water the 
canoes passed through a rocky basin that held a thirty- or forty- 
yard section of the river in a slack and unruffled pool. While 
ascending this last section, the last canoe, the one in which the 
old grandmother was wielding the paddle, broke away from 
Oo-koo-hoo, the strain severing his weU-worn line, and away 
Grandmother went, racing backward down through the turbu- 
lent foam. With her usual presence of mind she exercised such 
skill in guiding her canoe that it never for a moment swerved out 
of the true line of the current, and thus she saved herself and all 
her precious cargo. Then, the moment she struck slack water, 
she in with her paddle, and out with her pole, stood up in her 
unsteady craft, bent her powerful old frame, and — her pipe 
still clenched between her ancient teeth — with all her might 
and main she actually poled her canoe right up to the very 
head of the rapids, and came safely ashore. It was thrilhng 
to watch her — for we could render no aid — and when she 
landed we hailed her with approval for her courage, strength, 
and skill; but Grandmother was annoyed — her pipe was out. 

TRAVELLING AT NIGHT 

While we rested a few minutes, the women espied, in a little 
springy deU, some unusually fine moss, which they at once be- 
gan to gather. Indian women dry it and use it in a number of 
ways, especially for packing about the httle naked bodies of 
their babies when lacing them to their cradle boards. The 



54 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

incident, however, reminds me of what once happened to an 
Indian woman and her eight-year-old daughter when they were 
gathering moss about a mile from their camp on the shore of 
Great Slave Lake. They were working in a muskeg, and the 
mother, observing a clump of gnarled spruces a httle way off, 
sent her daughter there to see if there were any berries. In- 
stead of fruit the child found a nice round hole that led into a 
cavern beneath the roots of the trees that stood upon the httle 
knoll; and she called to her mother to come and see it. On 
kneeling down and peering within, the mother discovered a 
bear inside, and instantly turning about, hauled up her skirt 
and sat down in such a way that her figure completely blocked 
the hole and shut out all light. Then she despatched her child 
on the run for camp, to tell Father to come inmaediately with 
his gun and shoot the bear. 

To one who is not versed in woodcraft, such an act displays 
remarkable bravery, but to an Indian woman it meant no such 
thing, it was merely the outcome of her knowledge of bears, for 
she well knew that as long as all hght was blocked from the 
hole the bear would he still. But perhaps you wonder why she 
pulled up her skirt. To prevent it from being soiled or torn.*^ 
No, that was not the reason. Again it was her knowledge of 
bears that prompted her, for she knew that if by any strange 
chance the bear did move about in the dark, and if he did 
happen to touch her bare figure — for Indian ladies never wear 
lingerie — the bear would have been so mystified on encountering 
a living thing in the dark that he would make never another 
move until light solved the mystery. However, Father came 
with a rush, and shot the bear, and the brute was a big one, too. 

During the rest of the afternoon we found the current quite 
slack and therefore, making better headway, we gained Caribou 
Lake about an hour before sundown; and on finding a fair wind 
beneath a clear sky that promised moonlight, it was decided 
to sail as far down the lake as the breeze would favour us, and 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 55 

then go ashore upon some neighbouring isle for the balance of 
the night. So two stout poles were secured and laid across our 
two large canoes as they rested about a foot apart and parallel 
to one another. Then, the poles being lashed to the thwarts, a 
single "four-point" blanket was rigged horizontally to two 
masts, one standing in each canoe and both guyed with tump- 
lines, and leaning away from each other in order to spread the 
improvised sail. Two canoes so rigged cannot only make good 
headway, but can with safety run before a very strong wind. 
While Oo-koo-hoo's canoe was kept free, he nevertheless 
counted on having it towed, as it could then be cast off without 
a moment's delay in case of our coming unexpectedly upon 
tempting game. 

Supper was no sooner over than we were lying lazily in our 
canoes and, to the music of babbling water and foaming wakes, 
rushing toward the setting sun. Soon twilight overtook us, 
and wrapping shadows about us, accompanied us for a while. 
Next starlight appeared and with myriads of twinkling lanterns 
showed us our way among the now silhouetted islands. Then 
the moon uprose and pushed a shiny head through the upper 
branches of the eastern trees. At first it merely peeped as 
though to make sure we were not afraid; then it came out 
boldly in glory and quickly turning our wake into a path of 
molten gold, began to soar above the forest. 

For a while I could hear the childish prattle of the children 
and the crooning of Naudin as she hushed, with swaying body, 
her baby to her breast. 

Then even those gentle sounds died away as the Httle forms 
snuggled down beneath the blankets among the dogs and bales. 
Occasionally a loon called to us, or an owl swooped, ghost-like, 
overhead, and as we passed among pine-crested isles, those 
weather-beaten old monarchs just stood there, and whispering 
to one another, shook their heads as we swept by. 

Then for a few moments a mother moose with her two calves 



56 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

stood knee deep in a water-lily bay, and watched us on our way. 
But Oo-koo-hoo was now too drowsy to think of anything but 
sleep. So hour after hour went by while the moon rose higher 
and higher, and circling round to the westward, began to 
descend in front of us. 

POLING UP RAPIDS 

Out of the east came dawn with a sweep of radiant splendour. 
Still we sailed westward, ever westward, until the sun rose and 
through the rising mist showed us that the mouth of Caribou 
River opened right before us; then, happily, we landed on a 
little island to breakfast, and to drowse away a couple of hours 
on mossy beds beneath the shade of wind-blown pines. 

Besides shooting a few ducks and a beaver, and seeing a 
distant moose, nothing happened that was eventful enough to 
deflect my interest from the endless variety of charming scenery 
that came into view as we swept round bend after bend of that 
woodland river; at least, not until about four o'clock, when 
we arrived at the foot of another rapid. This Oo-koo-hoo and 
Amik examined carefully from the river bank, and decided that 
it could be ascended by pohng. So from green wood we cut 
suitable poles of about two inches in diameter and from seven to 
nine feet in length and knifed them carefully to rid them of bark 
and knots. Then, for this was a shoal rapids, both bowman 
and sternman stood up, the better to put the full force of their 
strength and weight into the work; the children, however, 
merely knelt to the work of wielding their slender poles; but in 
deep water, or where there were many boulders and conse- 
quently greater risk if the canoe were overturned, all would 
have knelt to do the work. 

Going bow-on straight for the mid-stream current, we plied 
our poles to good advantage. Each man remembered, how- 
ever, to lift his pole only when his mate's had been planted 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 57 

firmly in the river bottom. Then he would fix his own a httle 
farther ahead and throw all his weight and strength upon it, 
while at the same moment his companion went the same round. 
Then he would firmly re-fix his pole a httle farther up stream, 
and then once again shoved in unison. Thus foot by foot we 
crept up stream. It was hard but joyous work, for standing 
up in a canoe surrounded by a powerful and treacherous cur- 
rent gave us the thrill of adventure. 

OO-KOO-HOO VISITS BEAVEBS 

All the canoes having mounted the white water, however, 
in safety, it was decided, though sunset was several hours away, 
to spend the night at the head of the rapids, as the place 
afforded an excellent camping ground and besides, the next 
day was Sunday, a day upon which all good trippers cease to 
travel. While the canvas tepee, and my tent, too, were being 
erected, we heard the dogs barking and growling several hun- 
dred yards away, so Amik, shpping on his powder horn and 
bullet pouch, ran to investigate. Presently the report of his 
gun was added to the din, then silence reigned; and when we 
went to see what had happened we found that the hunter had 
shot a two-year-old moose heifer that the dogs had bayed. 
Then, as was her custom, Graimy came with her pail to catch 
the blood, and to select the entrails she needed to hold it. By 
supper time the moose had not only been skinned but the 
carcass dressed, too. After the meal was over. Granny washed 
the entrails inside and out and then stuffed them with a mixture 
of blood and oatmeal that she had prepared and seasoned with 
salt, and hung her home-made sausages high up inside the tepee 
to let them congeal and also to be out of reach of the dogs. In 
the meantime, Amik had made two frames, and Naudin and her 
daughters had stretched and laced into them, not only the 
moose hide, but the skin of the caribou as well; and when the 



58 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

meat was cut up and hung from the branches of a tree, it was 
time to sit around the fire and have our evening talk. 

But Oo-koo-hoo, sHpping away in his hunting canoe, paddled 
up a little creek into a small lake in which he knew a colony of 
beavers lived. He was gone about an hour and upon his return 
he told us about it. On gaining the httle mere, he, without 
removing his paddle from the water, propelled his canoe slowly 
and silently along the shore in the shadow of the overhanging 
trees, until a large beaver lodge appeared in the rising mist; 
and then standing up in his canoe — in order to get a better 
view — he became motionless. Minutes passed while the rising 
moon cast golden ripples upon the water, and two beavers, 
rising from below, swam toward and mounted the roof of their 
island home. Then, while the moonhght faded and glowed, 
other beavers appeared and swam hither and thither; some 
hauhng old barkless poles, others bringing freshly cut poplar 
branches, and aU busily engaged. A twig snapping behind 
the hunter, he turned his head, and as he caught a vanishing 
glimpse of a lynx in a tree, he was instantly startled by a tre- 
mendous report and a splashing upheaval of water beside his 
canoe. A beaver had been swimming there, and on seeing the 
hunter move, had struck the water with its powerful tail, to 
warn its mates before it dived. The lynx had been watching 
the beaver. 

"Did you bring back anything."^" 

"No, my son," Oo-koo-hoo rephed, "that hunting-ground 
belongs to an old friend of mine." 

WOODCRAFT OF TRAILING 

After a while the subject of woodcraft arose. When I in- 
quired as to how I could best locate the north in case I happened 
to be traveUing on a cloudy day without a compass, the old 
hunter rephed, that though he never used a compass, he found 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 59 

no difficulty in determining the north at any time, as the woods 
were full of signs. For instance, the branches of trees had a 
general tendency to be less numerous and shorter on the north 
side, and the bark on the north side was usually finer in texture 
and of a smoother surface. Also moss was more often found on 
the north side of vertical trees. The tops of pine trees usually 
leant toward the southeast — but that that was not always a 
sure sign in all localities, as in some places the tree tops were 
affected by the prevaihng winds. The stumps of trees fur- 
nished a surer indication. They showed the rings of growth 
to be greater in thickness on the north side. When trees were 
shattered by lightning, the cracks more often opened on the 
south side for lightning generally struck from that direction. 
Snow was usually deeper on the south side of trees on account 
of the prevaihng northerly winds; and if one dug away the crust 
from around a tree they would come to fine, granulated snow 
much sooner on the north side, thus proving where the shadow 
usually fell. Furthermore, as the snowdrifts always pointed 
in the direction whither the wind had gone, knowing the direc- 
tion of the prevailing winds, one had no trouble in locating 
the north even on the snow-covered surface of a great lake. 

The old woodman cautioned me that if, while travelling 
alone upon a big lake, I should be overtalven by a bhzzard, 
in no case should I try to fight it, but stop right in my tracks, 
take off my snowshoes, dig a hole in the snow, turn my sled 
over on its side to form a wind-break, crawl into the hole with 
the dogs, and wait until the storm subsided. If a blizzard 
came head-on it was useless to try to fight it, for it would easily 
win; but if the wind were fair and if one were still sure of his 
bearings, he might drift with the wind, although at heavy risk, 
as the wind is apt to change its course and the tripper lose his 
way. There was always one consolation, however, and that 
was that the greater the storm the sooner it was over. Another 
thing I should remember when travelhng on a lake or over an 



60 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

open country, in a violent snow-storm — I should allow for 
drifting, much in the same way as one would if travelling by 
canoe. 

By that time, however, the women and children had gone 
to sleep upon their evergreen beds, while we three men con- 
tinued to converse in whispers over the glow of the fading 
fire. Next I asked Oo-koo-hoo in which direction men usually 
tm'ned when lost in the woods — to the right or to the left? 
He rephed that circumstances had much to do with that, for 
the character of the country affected the man's turning, as it 
was natural to follow the hne of least resistance; also it de- 
pended somewhat on the man's build — whether one leg were 
shorter than the other. But though he had repeatedly ex- 
perimented, he could not arrive at any definite conclusion. 
However, when trying blindfolded men on a frozen lake, he 
noticed that they had a tendency to turn to the south regardless 
of whether they were facing east or west. And he concluded 
by remarking that he thought people were very foolish to put 
so much faith in certain statements, simply because they were 
twice-told tales. 

Upon my questioning him as to how a hunter would act, 
if, for instance, he were trailing a moose, and suspected that 
he was being followed by enemies, say a pack of wolves, or 
strange hunters, he informed me that if that happened to 
him — that if he suspected some enemy were following his trail — 
he would not stop, nor even look around, but at the first 
favourable opportunity, when he was sure he couldn't be ob- 
served, he would leave the game trail, circle back a mile or so 
through the woods, and upon cutting his old track would at 
once learn what was following him. Then if it were worth 
while he could trail his pursuers and, coming up behind them, 
could take them unaware. But if all this happened on a lake 
or in open country, where he could not circle back under cover, 
he would suddenly turn in his tracks, as though upon a pivot. 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 61 

and without losing the least headway or causing a moment's 
delay in his pace, he would continue walking, but now in a 
backward direction, long enough to give himself ample time to 
scrutinize his distant trail. By manoeuvring thus, he could 
study his pursuers without arousing their suspicion, for whether 
they were animals or men, the chances would be — if they were 
some distance away — that they would never notice that he 
had tm-ned about, and was now inspecting his own tracks. 

As regards trailing game, whether large or small, he cautioned 
me to watch my quarry carefully, and instantly to become rigid 
at the first sign that the game was about to turn round or 
raise its head to peer in my direction. More than that, I 
should not only remain motionless while the animal was gazing 
toward me, but I should assume at once some form that sug- 
gested the character of the surrounding trees or bushes or rocks. 
For example, among straight-boled, perfectly vertical trees, I 
should stand upright; among uprooted trees, I should assume 
the character of an overturned stump, by standing with in- 
clined body, bent legs, and arms and fingers thrust out at such 
angles as to suggest the roots of a fallen tree. And he added 
that if I doubted the wisdom of such an act, I should test it at a 
distance of fifty or a hundred paces, and prove the difficulty 
of detecting a man who assumed a characteristic landscape 
pose among trees or rocks. That was years before the World 
War had brought the word camouflage into general use; for as a 
matter of fact, the forest Indians had been practising camou- 
flage for centuries and, no doubt, that was one reason why many 
of the Indians in the Canadian Expeditionary Force did such 
remarkable work as snipers. 

INDIANS IN THE WORLD WAR 

For instance: Sampson Comego destroyed twenty-eight of 
the enemy. PhiUp Macdonald killed forty, Johnny Ballantyne 



62 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

fifty-eight. "One of their number, Lance-Corporal Johnson 
Paudash," as the Department of Indian Affairs states, "re- 
ceived the Mihtary Medal for his distinguished gallantry in 
saving hfe under heavy fire and for giving a warning that the 
enemy were preparing a counter-attack at Hill Seventy; the 
counter-attack took place twenty-five minutes after Paudash 
gave the information. It is seiid that a serious reverse was 
averted as a result of his action. Like other Indian soldiers, he 
won a splendid record as a sniper, and is officially credited with 
having destroyed no less than eighty-eight of the enemy. An- 
other Indian who won fame at the front was Lance-Corporal 
Norwest; he was one of the foremost snipers in the army and 
was officially credited with one hundred and fifteen observed 
hits. He won the Mihtary Medal and bar. Still another. Cor- 
poral Francis Pegahmagabow, won the Military Medal and two 
bars. He distinguished himself signally as a sniper and bears 
the extraordinary record of having killed three hundred and 
seventy-eight of the enemy. His Military Medal and two bars 
were awarded, however, for his distinguished conduct at Mount 
Sorrell, Amiens, and Passchendaele. At Passchendaele, Cor- 
poral Pegahmagabow led his company through an engagement 
with a single casualty, and subsequently captured three hun- 
dred Germans at Mount Sorrell. 

"The fine record of the Indians in the great war appears 
in a pecuharly favourable light when it is remembered 
that their services were absolutely voluntary, as they were 
specially exempted from the operation of the Military 
Service Act, and that they were prepared to give their lives 
for their country without compulsion or even the fear of 
compulsion." 

Many military medals were won by the Canadian Indians; 
Captain A.G.E. Smith of the Grand River Band of the Iroquois 
having been decorated seven times by the Governments of 
England, France, and Poland, and many distinguished them- 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 63 

selves by great acts upon the battlefield. "Another Indian to 
be decorated was Dave Kisek. During the heavy fighting 
around Cambrai he imstrapped a machine gun from his 
shoulder and advanced about one hundred yards to the German 
position, where he ran along the top of their trench, doing deadly 
execution with his machine gun. He, single-handed, took thirty 
prisoners upon this occasion. This Indian came from the re- 
mote regions of the Patricia district. Sergeant Clear Sky was 
awarded the Mihtary Medal for one of the most gallant and 
unselfish deeds that is recorded in the annals of the Canadian 
Expeditionary Force. During a heavy gas attack he noticed 
a wounded man lying in 'No Man's Land' whose gas mask 
had been rendered useless. Clear Sky crawled to him through 
the poisonous fumes, removed his own mask, and placed it on 
the wounded man, whose life was in consequence saved. Ser- 
geant Clear Sky was himself severely gassed as a result of his 
heroic action. Joe Thunder was awarded the Mihtary Medal 
for a feat of arms of an exceptionally dramatic character. He 
was separated from his platoon and surrounded by six Ger- 
mans, each of whom he bayoneted. George McLean received 
the Distinguished Conduct Medal in recognition of the per- 
formance of a feat which was an extraordinary one even for 
the great war. Private McLean, single-handed, destroyed 
nineteen of the enemy with bombs and captured fourteen." 

And yet not a single Canadian Indian has claimed that he 
won the World War — not even Pegahmagabow, who shot 
three hundred and seventy-eight Germans. 

APPROACHING GAME 

But to return to the land of peace. Of course, in attempting 
to deceive game, one must always guard against approaching 
down wind, for most animals grow more frantic over the scent 
than they do over the sight of man. Later on, when I went 



64 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

hunting with Oo-koo-hoo, he used to make me laugh, for at one 
moment he would be a jolly old Indian gentleman, and just 
as hkely as not the next instant he would be posing as a rotten 
pine stmnp that had been violently overturned, and now re- 
sembled an object against which a bear might Hke to rub his 
back and scratch himself. 

Often have I proved the value of the old hunter's methods, 
and I could recite not a few instances of how easy it is to de- 
ceive either birds or animals; but I shall mention only one, 
which happened on the borderline of Alaska. I was running 
through a grove of heavy timber, where the moss was so deep 
that my tread made no sound, when suddenly rounding a large 
boulder, I came upon a black bear less than fourteen paces 
away. It was sittmg upon its haunches, directly in the foot- 
path I was following. As good luck would have it, I saw him 
first, and for the fun of it, I instantly became an old gray 
stump — or tried to look like one. Presently the bear's head 
swung round, and at first he seemed a bit imeasy over the fact 
that he had not seen that stump before. It appeared to 
puzzle him, for he even twisted about to get a better view; but 
after watching me for about five minutes he contentedly turned 
his head away. A few minutes later, however, he looked again, 
and becoming reassured, yawned deliberately in my face. Rut 
by that time, being troubled with a kink in my back, I had 
to straighten up. Then, strange to say, as I walked quietly 
and slowly round him to gain the path ahead, the brute did not 
even get up ofi" his haunches — but such behaviour on the part 
of a bear rarely happens. 

Perhaps you wonder why I didn't shoot the brute. I never 
carry a gun. For when one is provided with food, one can carry 
no more useless thing than a gun; so far as protection is con- 
cerned, there is no more need to carry a gun in the north woods, 
than to carry a gun down Broadway; in fact, the wolves of 
Broadway — especially those of the female species — are much 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 65 

more dangerous to man than the wolves of the Great Northern 
Forest. 

SUNDAY IN CAMP 

Next morning being Sunday, we did not strike camp, and the 
first thing the women attended to, even while breakfast was 
under way, was the starting of a fire of damp, rotten wood, 
which smoked but never blazed, and over which, at a distance 
of about four feet, they leant the stretched deerskins, hair side 
up, to dry. Besides those, other frames were made and erected 
over another slow fire, and here the flakes or slabs of moose 
flesh were hung to be dried and smoked into what is called 
jerked meat. The fat, being chopped up and melted in a pail, 
was then poured into the moose bladder and other entrails to 
cool and be handy for future use. Of course, it would take 
several days to dry out the deerskins; so each morning when we 
were about to travel, the skins were unlaced and rolled up, to 
be re-stretched and placed over another fire the foUowing 
evening. 

Sunday was pleasantly spent, notwithstanding that so many 
diBFerent religious denominations were represented in camp: for 
while old Ojistoh counted her beads according to the Roman 
Cathohc faith, Amik and Naudin were singing hymns, as the 
former was an English Churchman and his wife a Presbyterian; 
but Oo-koo-hoo would join in none of it as he had no faith what- 
ever in the various religions of the white men and so he re- 
mained a pagan. Part of the day we spent in pottering about, 
in doing a httle mending here and there, smoking, telling 
stories, or in strolhng through the woods; as both Oo-koo-hoo 
and Amik were opposed to doing actual work on Sunday. In 
the afternoon I turned to sketching, and my drawing excited 
so much interest that Amik tried his hand, and in a crude way 
his sketches of animals and birds were quite graphic in charac- 
ter. One sketch I made, that of the baby, so pleased Neykia, 



66 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

that I gave it to her, and when she reahzed my intention she 
seized it with such eagerness that she crumpled and ahnost 
tore the paper; for as the jib ways have no word to express their 
thanks, they show their gratitude by the eagerness with which 
they accept a present. 

That, however, reminds me of having read in one of the 
leading American magazines an account of a noted American 
illustrator's trip into the woods of Quebec. While there he 
presented a red handkerchief to an Indian girl. The fact that 
she snatched it from him, and then ran away, was to him — as he 
stated — a sign that she was willing to comply with any evil 
intentions he might entertain toward her. Such absolute 
rot! The poHte little maid was merely trying to express her 
unbounded thanks for his gift. 

The only thing that interrupted our paddhng the following 
day was our going ashore to portage around a picturesque 
waterfall where two huge rocks, on the very brink of the 
cascade, split the river into three. When we had carried 
up the canoes, we found the children making a great to-do 
about wasps attacking them; for they had put down their 
packs beside a wasps' hole; and old Granny, seeing the 
commotion, had put down her end of the canoe, and with 
disgust exclaimed: 

"Oh, my foolish people, always standing around and waiting 
for old Granny to fix everything!" So saying, she pulled a 
big bunch of long, dry grass, and lighting it, ran with a blanket 
over her head, and placed the fire against the wasps' hole; in a 
moment they ceased their attack and utterly disappeared. 

We were now nearing the fork of Crane River, that in its 
three-mile course came from Crane Lake, on the shore of which 
was Oo-koo-hoo's last winter's camping ground; the men there- 
fore decided that it was best for Amik to push on in the light 
canoe and get the two deerskin winter tepee coverings, as well 
as their traps, that had been cached there last spring; and then 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 67 

return to the fork of the river where the family would go into 
camp and wait for him. 

NEARING trip's END 

Transferring most of the cargo to the other canoes, Amik and 
I provided ourselves with a little snack and started at once for 
Oo-koo-koo's old camping ground. It appeared about a three- 
mile paddle to the fork of the river. Nothing save the quack- 
ing of ducks rushing by on the wing, the occasional rise of a 
crane in front of us, the soaring of an eagle overhead, and the 
rippUng wakes left by muskrats as they scurried away, en- 
hvened our hurried trip. We found the leather lodge coverings 
in good order upon a stage, and securing them along with several 
bundles of steel traps that hung from trees, we put all aboard 
and found we had quite a load, for not only were the tepee 
coverings bulky, each bundle being about two feet thick by 
four feet long, but they were heavy, too, for each weighed 
about a hundred pounds. Then, too, the traps were quite a 
load in themselves. I didn't stop to count them, but it is 
surprising the mrniber of traps a keen, hard-working hunter 
employs; and they ranged all the way from small ones for rat 
and ermine to ponderous ones for bears. Also we gathered up 
a few odds and ends such as old axes, an iron pot, a couple of 
slush scoops, a bundle of fish-nets, and a lot of old snowshoes. 
Crane Lake, like many another northern mere, was a charming 
httle body of water nesthng among beautiful hills. After a cup 
of tea and some bannock, we once more phed our paddles. 

Now it was down stream and we ghded swiftly along, arriving 
at the confluence of the Crane and Caribou just before twihght 
and found smihng faces and a good supper awaiting our return. 
How human some Indians are, much more so than many a 
cold-blooded white. 

Next day we wanted to make the Height-of-land portage 



68 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

for our camp. As it meant a long, stiff paddle against a strong 
cmrent for most of the distance, we were up early, if not bright, 
and on our way before sunrise. This time, however, no rapids 
impeded us and we reached the portage on the farther shore 
of Height-of-land Lake, tired and hungry, but happy over a 
day's work well done. It was a pretty little lake about two 
miles long, surrounded by low-lying land in the midst of a range 
of great rock-bound hills, and its waters had a whimsical fashion 
of running either east or west according to which way the wind 
struck it. Thus its waters became divided and, flowing either 
way, travel afar to their final destinations in oceans thousands 
of miles apart. But the western outlet, Moose Creek, being too 
shallow for canoes, a portage of a couple of miles was made the 
following day, to the fork of an incoming stream that doubles 
its waters and makes the creek navigable. When we camped 
that night the hour was late. Then a two-days' run — the 
second of which we travelled due north — took us into Moose 
Lake; but not without shooting three rapids, each of which the 
Indians examined carefully before we undertook the sport that 
aU enjoyed so much. An eastern storm, however, caught us 
on Moose Lake and not only sent us ashore on an island, but 
windbound us there for two days while cold showers pelted us. 
Another day and a half up Bear River, with a portage round 
Crane Falls, landed us on the western shore of Bear Lake at the 
mouth of Muskrat Creek — and there we were to spend the 
winter. 

There, too, I remembered Thoreau when he said: "As I 
ran down the hill toward the reddening west, with the rainbow 
over my shoulder, and some faint tinkling sounds borne to my 
ear through the cleansed air, from I know not what quarter, 
my Good Genius seemed to say, — 'Go fish and hunt far and 
wide day by day, — farther and wider, — and rest thee by many 
brooks and hearth-sides without misgiving. Remember thy 
Creator in the days of thy youth. Rise free from care before 



IN QUEST OF TREASURE 69 

the dawn, and seek adventures. Let the noon find thee by 
other lakes, and the night overtake thee everywhere at home'." 
And furthermore: "Let not to get a hving be thy trade, but thy 
sport. Enjoy the land, but own it not. Through want of 
enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and selUng, 
and spending their hves like serfs." 



Ill 

00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 

OUR WINTER CAMP 

Bear Lake was beautiful. Its shores were fringed here and 
there with marshy reeds or sandy beaches; and its rivulets, 
flowing in and out, connected it with other meres in other 
regions. At dawn moose and caribou came thither to drink; 
bears roamed its surrounding slopes; lynxes, foxes, fishers, 
martens, ermines, and minks lived in its bordering woods. 
Otters, muskrats, and beavers swam its inrushing creeks; 
wolverines prowled its rocky glens, and nightly concerts of 
howHng wolves echoed along its shores. The eagles and the 
hawks built their nests in its towering trees, while the cranes 
fished and the ruffed grouse drummed. Nightly, too, the owls 
and the loons hooted and laughed at the quacking ducks and the 
honking geese as they flew swiftly by in the light of the moon. 
Sahnon-trout, whitefish, pike, and pickerel rippled its placid 
waters, and brook-trout leaped above the shimmering pools of 
its crystal streams. It was Oo-koo-hoo's happiest hunting 
ground, and truly it was a hunter's paradise ... a poet's 
heaven ... an artist's home. 

"What fools we mortals be!" — when we five in the city! 

The site chosen for the lodges was on one of two points jutting 
into the lake, separated by the waters of Muskrat Creek. On 
its northwest side ran a heavily timbered ridge that broke the 
force of the winter winds from the west and the north, and thus 
protected Oo-koo-hoo's camp, which stood on the southeast side 
of the little stream. Such a site in such a region afforded wood, 

70 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 71 

water, fruit, fish, fowl, and game; and, moreover, an enchanting 
view of the surromiding country. Furthermore, that section of 
The Owl's game-lands had not beenhunted for forty-twomoons. 

Immediately after dinner the men began cutting lodge poles, 
while the women cleared the tepee sites and levelled the ground. 
On asking Oo-koo-hoo how many poles would be required for 
the canvas lodge which he had kindly offered me the use of for 
the coming winter, he replied : 

"My son, cut a pole for every moon, and cut them thirteen 
feet in length, and the base of the tepee, too, should be thirteen 
feet across." Then looking at me with his small, shrewd, but 
pleasant eyes, he added: "Thirteen is our lucky number. It 
always brings good fortune. Besides, most canoes are made of 
thirteen pieces, and when we kill big game, we always cut the 
carcasses into thirteen parts. My son, when I have time I shall 
carve a different symbol upon each of the thirteen poles of your 
lodge; they shall represent the thirteen moons of the year, and 
thus they will enable you to keep track of the phase of the 
season through which you are passing." 

All the poles were of green pine or spruce. The thin ends 
of three of the stoutest were lashed together; on being erected, 
they formed a tripod against which the other poles were leant, 
while their butts, placed in a circle, were spread an equal distance 
apart. Over that framework the lodge covering was spread by 
inserting the end of a pole into the pocket of each of the two 
windshields, and then hoisting the covering into place. Next 
the lapping edges, brought together over the doorway, were 
fastened securely together with wooden pins, while the bottom 
edge was pegged down all round the lodge with wooden stakes. 
In the centre of the floor-space six Kttle cut logs were fastened 
down in the form of a hexagon, and the earth scooped from 
within the hexagon was banked against the logs to form a 
permanent and limited fireplace. The surrounding floor 
space was covered with a layer of fir-brush, then a layer of 



72 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

rushes, and finally, where the beds were to be laid, a heavy 
mattress of balsam twigs laid, shingle-fashion, one upon 
another, with their stems down. Thus a springy, comfortable 
bed was formed, and the lodge perfumed with a delightful 
forest aroma. Above the fireplace was hung a stage, or frame- 
work of light sticks, upon which to dry or smoke the meat. 
Around the wall on the inner side was hung a canvas curtain 
that overlapped the floor, and thus protected the lodgers from 
draught while they were sitting about the fire. The doorway 
was two feet by five, and was covered with a raw deerskin 
hung from the top. A stick across the lower edge kept the skin 
taut. A log at the bottom of the doorway answered for a door- 
step and in winter kept out the snow. Now the lodge was 
ready for occupation. 

As there are six different ways of building campfires, it 
should be explained that my friends built theirs according to 
the Ojibway custom; that is, in the so-called "lodge fashion", 
by placing the sticks upright, leaning them together, and cross- 
ing them over one another in the manner of lodge poles. When 
the fire was lighted, the windshields formed a perfect draught 
to carry the smoke up through the permanently open flue in the 
apex of the structure, and one soon reahzed that of all tents 
or dwellings, no healthier abode was ever contrived by man. 
Indeed, if the stupid, meddlesome agents of civilization had 
been wise enough to have left the Indians in their tepees, instead 
of forcing them to five in houses — the ventilation of which was 
never understood — they would have been spared at least one of 
civihzation's diseases — tuberculosis — and many more tribes- 
men would have been alive to-day. 

On entering an Indian tepee one usuaUy finds the first space, 
on the right of the doorway, occupied by the woodpile; the 
next, by the wife; the third, by the baby; and the fourth, by 
the husband. Opposite these, on the other side of the fire, 
the older children are ranged. To the visitor is allotted the 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 73 

warmest place in the lodge, the place of honour, farthest from 
and directly opposite the doorway. When the dogs are al- 
lowed in the tepee, they know their place to be the first space 
on the left, between the entrance and the children. 

While the two leather lodges of the Indians stood close to- 
gether with stages near at hand upon which to store food and 
implements out of reach of the dogs and wild animals, my 
tepee, the canvas one, stood by itself a little farther up the 
creek. Taking particular pains in making my bed, and settling 
everything for service and comfort, I turned in that night 
in a happy mood and fell asleep contemplating the season 
of adventure before me and the great charm of living in such 
simphcity. "In the savage state every family owns a shelter 
as good as the best, and sufficient for its coarser and simpler 
wants," says Thoreau, "but I think that I speak within 
bounds when I say that, though birds of the air have their nests, 
and the foxes their holes, and the savages their wigwams, in 
modern civilized society not more than one half the families 
own a shelter. In the large towns and cities, where civilization 
especially prevails, the number of those who own a shelter is 
a very small fraction of the whole. The rest pay an annual 
tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable sum- 
mer and winter, which would buy a village of Indian wigwams 
but now helps to keep them poor as long as they live. . . . 
But how happens it that he who is said to enjoy these things is 
so commonly a poor civihzed man, while the savage, who has 
them not, is rich as a savage.^" 

Next morning, while roaming about the point, I discovered 
two well-worn game trails that, converging together, led directly 
to the extreme outer end of our point. The tracks were the wild 
animals' highways through that part of the woods, and were 
used by them when they desired to make a short cut across that 
end of the lake by way of a neighbouring island. Worn fairly 
smooth, and from three to five inches in depth, by from eight 



74 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

to ten inches in width, these tracks were entirely free of grass 
or moss. In following them a few hundred paces, I could 
plainly recognize the prints of the moose, the bear, the wolf, and 
the fox; and a few smaller and lesser impressions with regard to 
the origin of which I was not so sure. The trails were much 
like the buffalo trails one used to see upon the plains. To my 
dehght, my lodge door was not more than ten paces from that 
wild Rroadway of the Wilderness. 

INDIAN POLITENESS 

After breakfast Oo-koo-hoo suggested that a "lop-stick" 
should be cut in honoiu" of the white man's visit. Selecting 
a tall spruce, Amik, with a half-axe in hand, began to ascend it. 
When he had climbed about three parts of the way up he began 
to chop off the surrounding branches and continued to do so as 
he descended, imtil he was about halfway down, when he 
desisted and came to earth. The result was a strange-looking 
tree with a long bare trunk, surmounted by a tuft of branches 
that could be seen and recognized for miles around. 

Cutting lop-sticks is an old custom of the forest Indians. 
Such trees are used to mark portages, camping grounds, meet- 
ing places, or dangerous channels where submerged rocks he in 
wait for the unsuspecting voyageur. In fact, they are to the 
Indian what hghthouses are to the mariner. Yet, sometimes 
they are used to celebrate the beginning of a young man's hunt- 
ing career, or to mark the grave of a famous hunter. When 
made to indicate a wilderness rendezvous, the meeting place is 
commonly used for the purpose of coming in contact with their 
nearest neighbours or friends, and halting a day or so, while 
upon their voyage to the post, in order to discuss their affairs — 
the winter's hunt, the strange tracks they have seen, the strange 
sounds they have heard, the raiding of their hunting ground, 
and the like. Always at such meetings a fire is kindled regard- 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 75 

less of the season, an ancient custom of their old rehgion, but 
used to-day more for the purpose of lighting pipes. Beside 
the fire a post stripped of its bark is erected, and on it a fire- 
bag containing tobacco for the use of all hands is hung. Around 
the fire the women and children spread a carpet of brush, 
upon which the men sit while conversing. At such meetings 
one never hears two Indians talk at once — a fine example 
for white people to heed — nor do they openly contradict one 
another as the vulgar white man does, for such an offence would 
be considered, by the savage, rude — and the offender would be 
regarded as no better than a white man; for they beheve them- 
selves to be not only the wisest and the bravest, but the pohtest 
people in the world; and when one stops to compare the average 
Indian with the average white man in North America, one must 
grant that the savage is right. 

In relation to their pohteness I can go beyond my own 
observation and quote the experience of Sir Alexander Henry — 
whom they called Coseagon — while he was held a prisoner. 

"I could not let all this pass without modestly remarking 
that his account of the beginning of things was subject to 
great uncertainty as being trusted to memory only, from woman 
to woman through so many generations, and might have been 
greatly altered, whereas the account I gave them was written 
down by direction of the Great Spirit himseff and preserved 
carefully in a book which was never altered, but had ever re- 
mained the same and was undoubtedly the truth. 'Coseagon,' 
says Canassatego, 'you are yet almost as rude as when you first 
came among us. When young it seems you were not weU 
taught; you did not learn the civil behaviour of men. We 
excused you; it was the fault of your instructors. But why 
have you not more improved since you have long had the 
opportunity from our example.^ You see I always beheve 
your stories. That is, I never contradict them. Why do you 
not beheve mine.^' Contradiction, or a direct denial of the 



76 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

truth of what another says, is among the Indians deemed 
extremely rude. Only great superiority, as of a father to a 
child, or of an old counsellor to some boy, can excuse it. Ala- 
quippy and the other Indians kindly made some apology for me, 
saying I should be wiser in time, and they concluded with an 
observation which they thought very polite and respectful 
toward me, that my stories might be best for the white people, 
but Indian stories were undoubtedly best for Indians." 

Furthermore, if we compare the philosophy of the red man 
and the white, we find that just because the white man has 
invented a lot of asinine fashions and customs, a lot of un- 
necessary gear and junk, and feeds himself on unhealthy 
concoctions that give him indigestion and make his teeth fall 
out, he flatters himself that he is the wisest man on earth, 
whereas, all things considered, in my humble opinion, he is the 
prize fool of the universe — for removing himself so far from 
nature. And when the female follower of Dame Fashion goes 
mincing along the cement-paved street in her sharp-toed, 
French-heeled slippers, on her way to the factory, she flatters 
herself that she knows better than God how to perfect the hu- 
man foot; then the AU Wise One, in His just wrath, strikes back 
at her by presenting her with a luxuriant crop of varicose veins, 
corns, ingrowing nails, fallen arches, and bunions that supply 
her with suffering in plenty for the rest of her days. Her 
red sister, on the contrary, in moccasined feet, walks naturally 
through the forest; and The Master of Life, beholding her 
becoming humility, rewards her with painless pleasure. 

But to return to the Indians' meeting places in the wilderness. 
The important meetings held in the forest are always opened by 
smoking. No man speaks without first standing up, and his 
delivery is always slow and in short, clear sentences. In the 
past there were great orators among the red men as many of the 
old writers and traders afifirm — but again I quote Sir Alexan- 
der Henry: 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 77 

"Old Canassatego, a warrior, counsellor, and the chief man of 
our village, used to come frequently to smoke and talk with 
me, while I worked at my new business (mending of gun locks), 
and many of the younger men would come and sit with him, 
pleased to hear our conversations. As he soon saw I was curi- 
ous on that head he took a good deal of pains to instruct me 
in the principles of their eloquence, an art (it may seem strange 
to say it, but it is strictly true) carried much higher among 
these savages than is now in any part of Europe, as it is their 
only polite art, as they practice it from their infancy, as every- 
thing of consequence is transacted in councils, and all the force 
of their government consists in persuasion." 

Once when questioning Oo-koo-hoo regarding old Indian 
customs, he informed me that among Indians bowing was a very 
recent innovation, and that the men of the olden time — the 
fire-worshippers or sun-worshippers — never deigned to bow to 
one another: they bowed to none but the Deity. They took 
not the Great Spirit's name in vain; nor did they mention it 
save in a whisper, and with bowed head. He regretted that 
since coming in contact with the irreverent and blaspheming 
white men, his people had lost much of their old-time godly 
spirit. 

TRAPPING EQUIPMENT 

For the next few days the work done by the men was con- 
fined to odd jobs in preparation for the coming winter, and the 
laying out of their future trapping trails. They built some 
stages upon which to store the canoes, and others nearer the 
lodges, upon which to place their guns, sleds, and snowshoes. 
They cut and shaved axe-handles and helved them. They 
overhauled traps, and got ready all their trapping gear. It 
was always interesting to watch Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, even 
when they were engaged upon the most trivial forest work, for 
much of it was new to me and it was all so diiferent from the 



78 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

ways of civilization. Then, too, they had taken the boys in 
hand and were instructing them in relation to the hunter's art. 

The first thing they did with the traps, after seeing that the 
old ones were in working order, was to boil both the new ones 
and the old ones for about half an hour in pots in which was 
placed either pine, or spruce, or cedar brush. This they did — 
Oo-koo-hoo explained — to cleanse the old traps and to soften 
the temper of the new ones, thus lessening the chances of their 
breaking in zero weather; and also to free both old and new 
from all man-smell and to perfume them with the natural scent 
of the forest trees, of which no animal is afraid. The traps they 
used were the No. 1, "Rat," for muskrats, ermines, and minks; 
the No. 2, "Mink," for minks, martens, skunks, and foxes; the 
No. 3, "Fox, "for foxes, minks, martens, fishers, wolves, wolver- 
ines, skunks, otters, and beavers; the No. 4, "Beaver," for beav- 
ers, otters, wolves, wolverines, and fishers; the No. 5, "Otter," 
for otters, beavers, wolves, wolverines, and small bears; and the 
"Bear" trap in two sizes — A, large, and B, small, for all kinds 
of bears and deer. Traps with teeth they did not use, as they 
said the teeth injured the fur. 

Next to the knife, the woodsman uses no more useful imple- 
ment than the axe. Even with the professional hunter, the 
gun takes third place to the knife and the axe. As between the 
two makes of axes — the American and the Canadian — the for- 
mer appears the best. It is really a good fair-weather axe, but 
winter work proves the superiority of the Canadian implement. 
The latter does not chip so readily in cold weather. Further- 
more, the eye of the American axe is too small for the soft-wood 
helve usually made in the northern forest, since in many parts 
no wood harder than birch is to be had. But to reduce the high 
temper of the American axe, the hunter can heat the head in fire 
until it becomes a slight bluish tinge and then dip it in either fish 
oil or beavei: oil. The sizes of axes run: "Trappers," li lbs.; 
" Voyageurs, " 2§ lbs., "Chopping, " 3| lbs., and " Felling, " 4 lbs. 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 79 

At last the eventful morning arrived. Now we were to go 
a-hunting. The trap-setting party was to be composed of four 
persons: Oo-koo-hoo, the two boys, and myself. Our ne-mar- 
win — ^provisions — ^for four, to last a week, consisted of: one 
pound of tea, eight pomids of dried meat, four pounds of 
grease, four pounds of dried fish, and a number of small ban- 
nocks ; the rest of our grub was to be secured by hunting. 

Of course, while hunting, Oo-koo-hoo always carried his gun 
loaded — lacking the cap — but it was charged with nothing 
heavier than powder and shot, so that the hunter might be 
ready at any moment for small game; yet if he encountered 
big game, all he had to do was to ram down a ball, shp on a cap, 
and then be ready to fire at a moose or a bear. 

SETTING FOX TRAP 

|_After the usual affectionate good-bye, and the waving of 
farewell as we moved in single file into the denser forest, we 
followed a game trail that wound in and out among the trees 
and rocks — always along the line of least resistance — and for a 
while headed westward through the valley of Muskrat Creek. 
Oo-koo-hoo led the way and, as he walked along, would oc- 
casionally turn and, pointing at the trail, whisper: 

"My white son, see, a moose passed two days ago . . . 
That's fox — this morning," and when we were overlooking the 
stream, he remarked: "This is a good place for muskrats, but 
I'll come for them by canoe." 

The principal object of the trip was to set fox and marten 
traps. Hilly timberland of spruce or pine, without much 
brushwood, is the most likely place for martens; and in fairly 
open country foxes may be found. The favourite haunt of 
beavers, otters, fishers, minks, and muskrats is a marshy region 
containing little lakes and streams; while for lynxes, a willowy 
valley interspersed with poplars is the usual resort. 



80 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Coming to an open space along the creek, the wise old Owl 
concluded from the fox signs he had already seen, and from the 
condition of the soil on a cut bank, that it was a desirable place 
in which to set a steel trap for foxes. Laying aside his kit, 
he put on his trapping mits, to prevent any trace of man-smell 
being left about the trap, and with the aid of his trowel he 
dug into the bank a horizontal hole about two feet deep and 
about a foot in diameter. He wedged the chain-ring of the trap 
over the small end of a five-foot pole to be used as a clog or 
drag-anchor in case the fox tried to make away with the trap. 
The pole was then buried at one side of the hole. Digging a 
trench from the pole to the back of the hole, he carefully set 
the trap, laid it in the trench near the back of the hole, so that 
it rested about half an inch below the surface of the surround- 
ing earth, covered it with thin layers of birch bark (sewed 
together with watap — thin spruce roots) then, sifting earth over 
it, covered all signs of both trap and chain, and finally, with a 
crane's wing brushed the sand into natural form. Placing at 
the back of the hole a duck's head that Ne-geek had shot for 
the purpose, Oo-koo-hoo scattered a few feathers about. Some 
of these, as well as the pan of the trap, had been previously 
daubed with a most stinking concoction called "fox bait" — 
hereafter called "mixed bait" to prevent confusing this with 
other baits. 

It was composed of half a pound of soft grease, half an 
ounce of aniseed, an eighth of an ounce of asafoetida, six to 
ten rotten birds' eggs, and the glands taken from a female fox — 
all thoroughly mixed in a jar and then buried underground to 
rot it, as well as for safe keeping. The reason for such a con- 
coction is that the cold in winter does not afi'ect the stench of 
asafoetida; aniseed forms a strong attraction for many kinds of 
ctnimals; foxes are fond of eggs; and no stronger lure exists for 
an animal than the smell of the female gland. So powerful is 
the fetor of this "mixed bait," and so delicious is the merest 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 81 

whiff of it, that it forms not only an irresistible but a long- 
range allurement for many kinds of fur-bearers. Indeed, so 
pungent was it, that Oo-koo-hoo carried merely a httle of it 
in a cap-box, and found that a tiny daub was quite sufficient 
to do his work. The reason for using the two kinds of bait 
was that while the mixed bait would attract the animal to the 
trap by its scent, the sight of the duck's head would induce the 
fox to enter the hole, step upon the unseen trap while reaching 
to secure its favourite food, and thus be caught by a foreleg. 

The mention of an animal being caught by a foreleg reminds 
me of the strange experience that Louison Laferte, a French 
half-breed, manservant at Fort Rae, once had with a wolf. 
Louison was quite a wag and at all times loved a joke. One 
day while visiting one of his trapping paths with his four-dog 
team he came upon a wolf caught in one of his traps by the 
foreleg. After stunning the brute, he found that its leg was in 
no way injured, for it had been in the trap but a short time. 
Louison, in a sudden fit of frohc humour, unharnessed his Num- 
ber 3 dog and harnessed in its place the unconscious wolf. 
When the wild brute came to, and leaped up, the half-breed 
shouted: '*Ma-a-r-r-che!'' and whipped up his dogs. Off they 
went, the two leading dogs pulling the wolf along from in 
front, while the sled-dog nipped him from behind and en- 
com-aged him to go ahead. Thus into Fort Rae drove the gay 
Louison with an untamed timber-wolf in harness actually help- 
ing to haul his sled as one of his dog-team. The half-breed 
kept the wolf for more than a month trying to train it, but it 
proved so intractable and so vicious that fearing for the children 
around the Post, eventually he killed it. 

DOG TRAILING FOX 

It is generally conceded by the most experienced fur-hunters 
of the northern forest, that while the wolverine is a crafty brute 



82 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

and difficult to hunt, yet of all forest creatures the coloured fox 
is the hardest to trap. In hunting the two animals with dogs, 
however, there is httle comparison. The wolverine, being a 
heavy, short-legged beast, can soon be overhauled in an open 
country or on a beaten trail by a dog, or in deep snow even by 
a man on snowshoes ; while the chances of a fox being run down 
by a dog cire not so good. Some hunters, however, kill many 
foxes by running them down with dogs, and for such work 
they use a hght-weight, long-legged dog possessed of both long 
sight and keen scent. Hunters declare that no animal, not 
even the wolf, has so much endurance as a good hunting-dog. 

When a hunting-dog sights a fox on a frozen lake he runs 
straight for him. The fox, on reahzing that he is being pur- 
sued, leaps wildly into the air two or three times, and then 
makes off at tremendous speed — ^much faster than the dog can 
run. But in about half a mile the fox, becoming played out, 
stops to rest a moment and to look around to see if the dog is 
still following. Then, on seeing the dog still in pursuit, he 
sets off in another great burst of speed. Meanwhile, the dog 
has gained on him, and the fox, discovering this, bolts off at 
a different angle. The dog, however, observing what has 
happened, takes advantage of his quarry, and cuts the corner 
and thereby makes another gain. The fox, now more alarmed 
than ever, makes another turn, and the dog cuts another corner 
and makes another gain. Thus the race goes on until the fox 
comes to the conclusion that the dog is sure to get him, loses 
both heart and wind and finally hes down from sheer exhaus- 
tion. The dog rushes at him, seizes him between the forelegs, 
and with one crunch the hunt is over. 

It is much the same in the deep snow of the timberland. 
There the fox will start off with great bounds that sink him deep 
into the snow and make the scent only the stronger for the 
dog. Meanwhile, the dog lopes steadily along, though far 
out of sight. The fox stops to Usten and learn if his enemy is 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 83 

still pursuing him. When the dog finally comes into view, the 
fox changes his course, and the dog cuts the corner, and thus 
the story ends in the usual way. 

OTHER WAYS OF TRAPPING 

As the methods of hunting the wolf, the marten, the lynx, 
and the wolverine are founded on the various ways of trapping 
the fox, a full description of how foxes are hunted may be of 
interest. Then, too, the reader will be enabled to understand 
more easily, without unnecessary repetition, the modes of 
trapping other animals. My description, however, will apply 
only to the hunting of the crafty coloured foxes of the forest, 
and not to their stupid brethren of the Arctic coasts — the white 
and the blue foxes. 

Of course, every Indian tribe beheves its own manner of 
hunting to be the master way, but it is conceded by experi- 
enced fur-traders that the Ojibway method is the best. When 
setting a fox trap in the winter time, the first thing an Ojibway 
does is to jab into the snow, small end down, and in an upright 
position, the clog or drag-pole. With his knife he then cuts 
a hole in the snow exactly the size of the set trap, the plate 
of which has already been daubed with mixed bait. In this 
hole the trap is placed in such a position that it rests about 
half an inch below the surface of the snow. A thin shield of 
birch bark covers this, and then with a crane's wing the snow is 
brushed over both trap and chain so that no sign remains. 
Then in addition to the mixed bait, he plants about the spot 
food bait, such as bits of rotten fish or duck. 

Most hunters have a regular system for setting their traps 
so that they may know exactly where and how they are placed. 
Usually he sets them east and west, then cutting a notch 
on a branch — about a foot from the butt — he measures that 
distance from the trap, and thrusts the branch into the snow 



84 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

in an upright position, as though it were growing naturally. 
The stick serves not only to mark the trap, but in an open 
space to furnish the same attraction for a fox as a tree does for 
a dog; besides, when the hunter is going his roimds, at the sight 
of the branch he wiU remember where and how his trap is set, 
and can read all the signs without going too near. The object 
of laying the sheet of birch bark over the trap is that when any 
part of the bark is touched the trap may go off; besides, it 
forms a hollow space beneath, and thus allows the animal's 
foot to sink deeper into the trap, to be caught farther up, and 
to be held more securely. 

The foregoing is the usual way of setting a fox trap, yet the 
Wood Crees and the Swampy Crees set their fox traps on 
mounds of snow about the size of muskrat houses. For that 
purpose they bank the snow into a mound about eighteen inches 
high, bury the drag-pole at the bottom, set the trap exactly in 
the crest of the mound, and, covering up all traces of trap and 
chain with powdered snow, sprinkle food bait and mixed bait 
around the bottom of the mound. The approaching fox, 
catching scent of the mixed bait, follows it up and then eats 
some of the food bait, which presently gives him the desire to 
go and sit upon the mound — which is the habit of foxes in such 
a condition — and thus he is caught. 

A curious thing once happened to a Dog-rib Indian at Great 
Slave Lake. One day he found a wolf caught in one of his traps 
and foohshly allowed his hunting-dog to rush at it. The wolf 
leaped about so furiously that it broke the trap chain, and ran 
out upon the lake, too far for the hunter's gun. In pursuit of 
the wolf, the dog drew too near and was seized and overpowered 
by the wolf. In order to save his dog the hunter rushed out 
upon the lake; and when within fair range, dropped upon one 
knee and fired. Unluckily, the ball struck the trap, smashed it, 
and set the wolf free; and all the hunter got for his pains was 
a dead dog and a broken trap — while the wolf went scot free. 




Minutes passed while the rising moon cast golden ripples upon 
the water and two heavers, rising from below, swam toward and 
mounted the roof of tfieir island home. A twig snapping behind the 
liunter, he turned his head, and as he cauglit tfie vanishing glimpse 
of a lynx in a tree, he was instantly startled by a tremendous report 
and a splashing upheaval . . . See Chapter II 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 85 

The Chipewyan and Slave Indians set their traps inside 
a lodge made of eight or ten poles, seven or eight feet in length, 
placed together lodge fashion and banked round with a wall of 
brush to prevent the fox entering except by the doorway. The 
trap is set in the usual way, just outside the entrance, the chain 
being fastened to one of the door poles. Instead, however, 
of being placed on the snow around the trap, the mixed bait is 
put on a bit of rabbit skin fastened in the centre of the lodge; 
the idea being that the fox will step on the trap when he en- 
deavours to enter. The Louchieux Indian sets his trap the 
foregoing way, but in addition he sets a snare in the doorway of 
the lodge, not so much to catch and hold the fox, as to check him 
from leaping in without treading on the trap. 

Oo-koo-hoo told me that whenever a trap set in the usual 
way had failed to catch a fox, he then tried to take advantage 
of the cautious and suspicious nature of the animal by casting 
about on the snow little bits of iron, and re-setting and covering 
his trap on the crest of some little mound close at hand without 
any bait whatever. The fox, returning to the spot where he 
had scented and seen the bait before, would now scent the iron, 
and becoming puzzled over the mystery would try to solve it 
by going to the top of the mound to sit down and think it over; 
and thus he would be caught. 

Another way to try for a fox that has been nipped in a trap 
and yet has got away is to take into account the strange fact 
that the animal will surely come back to investigate the 
source of the trouble. The hunter re-sets the trap in its old 
position and in the usual way; then, a short distance off, he 
builds a httle brush tepee, something hke a lynx-lodge, which 
has a base of about four feet, and by means of a snare fastened 
to a tossing-pole, he hangs a rabbit with its hind feet about six 
inches above the snow. A mixed-bait stick is placed a little 
farther back, in order to attract the fox, while another trap is 
set just below the rabbit. The idea of re-setting the first trap 



86 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

in the old position is to put the fox off his guard when he ap- 
proaches the dead rabbit hanging in the snare. As, no doubt, 
he has seen a rabbit hang many times before, and snares so 
baited he has often robbed. The Indian in his extreme care 
to avoid communicating man-smell to the rabbit will even 
remain to leeward of it while he handles it, lest man-scent 
should blow against the rabbit and adhere to the fur. If that 
happened, the fox would be so suspicious that he would not go 
near the rabbit. 

But to illustrate how stupid the white fox of the Arctic coast 
is in comparison with the coloured fox of the forest, the following 
story is worth repeating. It happened near Fort Churchill on 
the northwest coast of Hudson Bay. The trader at the post 
had given a certain Eskimo a spoon-bait, or spoon-hook, the 
first he had ever seen; and as he thought it a very wonderful 
thing, he always carried it about with him. The next fall, while 
going along the coast, he saw a pack of white foxes approaching, 
and having with him neither a trap nor a gun, he thought 
of his spoon-hook. Tearing a rag off his shirt, he rubbed on it 
some porpoise oil which he was carrying in a bladder, fastened 
the rag about the hook, laid it on a log directly in the path of 
the approaching foxes, and, going to the end of the fine, lay down 
out of sight to watch what would happen. When the foxes 
drew near, one of them seized the bait, and the Eskimo, jerking 
the line, caught the fox by the tongue. In that way the native 
caught six foxes before he returned to the post; but then, as 
everyone m the Far North knows, white foxes are proverbially 
stupid creatures. 

The more expert the hunter, the more pride he takes in his 
work. Before leaving a trap, he wiU examine its surroundings 
carefully and decide from which angle he wishes the animal 
to approach; then by arranging cut brush in a natural way in 
the snow he will block all other approaches, and thus compel 
the unsuspecting fox to carry out his wishes. 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 87 

When a fox springs a trap without being caught, he rarely 
pauses to eat the bait, but leaps away in fright. The hunter, 
however, knowing that the fox will soon return, not only 
leaves the trap as the fox left it, but sets another trap, or even 
two more, without bait, close to the first, where he thinks the 
fox will tread when he makes his second visit. If that fails, 
he will trace the fox's trail to where it passes between thick 
brush and there he will set a trap in the usual way, but without 
bait, right in the fox's track. Then he will cut brush and shore 
up the natural bushes in such a way that, no other opening 
being left, the fox must return by his own track, and run the 
chance of being caught. Should that method also fail, the 
hunter will set another trap in the trail close to the first, in the 
hope that if one trap does not catch the fox, the next will. 

Another device is to break a bit of glass into tiny slivers which 
the hunter mixes with grease and forms into Uttle tablets that 
he leaves on the snow. If the fox scents them, the chances 
are that he will swallow each tablet at a single gulp. Presently 
he will feel a pain in his stomach. At first tliis wiU cause him 
to leap about, but as his sufferings will only increase, he will he 
down for an hour or so. When he finally rises to move away, he 
will feel the pain again. Once more he will he down, and the 
chances are that he will remain there until found either dead or 
ahve by the hunter. 

FASHIONABLE FOOLS 

If my readers, especially my women readers, should feel 
regret at the great suffering resulting from fur-hunting, they 
should recall to mind its chief contributory cause — those devo- 
tees of fashionable civilization who mince around during the 
sweltering days of July and August in furs. The mere thought 
of them once so filled with wrath a former acting Prime Minister 
of Canada — Sir George Foster — that he lost his usual flow of 



88 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

suave and classic oratory, and rearing up, roared out in the 
House of Parliament: "Such women get my goat!" 

Truly, there is much suffering in the wilderness, especially 
on account of civilization; but if my readers will be patient 
enough to wade through these few paragraphs of pain, they may 
later on find enough novelty, beauty, and chgum in the forest 
to reward them for reading on to the end. 

But to return to foxes — they are much given to playing dead. 
Once, while travelling in Athabasca with Caspar Whitney, 
the noted American writer on Sport and Travel, we came upon 
a black fox caught in a steel trap. One of our dog-drivers 
stunned it and covered it with a mound of snow in order to 
protect its pelt from other animals, so that when the unknown 
trapper came along he would find his prize in good order. 
Three days later, when I passed that way, the fox was sitting 
upon the mound of snow, and was as alive as when first seen. 
This time, however, my half-breed made sure by first hitting 
the fox on the snout to stun it, and then gently pressing his 
moccasined foot over its heart until it was dead — the proper 
way of killing small fur-bearing animals without either injuring 
the fur or inflicting unnecessary pain. 

Colin Campbell, a half-breed at York Factory, once had 
a diff'erent experience. He had been on a visit to an Indian 
camp with his dog-train and on his way back found a white 
fox in one of his traps. He stunned it in the usual way and 
pressed his foot over its heart; and when he was sure it was 
dead, placed it inside his sled-wrapper and drove home. On 
arriving at the Fort he unhitched his sled from the dogs, and 
leaving them harnessed, pulled his sled, still containing its load, 
into the trading room; where, upon opening the wrapper to 
remove the load, the fox leaped out and, as the door was 
closed, bolted in fright straight through the window, carrying 
the glass with it, and escaped before the dogs could be released 
from their harness. 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 89 

There are, however, other ways of catching the fox. One 
is to chop a hole in the ice on a river or lake, fill the hole with 
water and place in it a "hung" white-fish, in such a position 
that, when the water freezes, about one third of the fish will 
protrude above the ice. Then in the usual way, but without 
bait or sign, set one or two traps near the fish. When the 
fox arrives, he may succeed in eating the fish's head, but 
when he tries to dig the rest of the fish out of the ice, he will 
become too interested to remain cautious, and in shifting his 
place of stance will soon be taken prisoner. But sometimes 
a knowing old fox will first dig about in the snow, and on 
finding the trap, will thereafter be able to eat the fish in safety. 

Mention of the fish bait recalls what strange things occa- 
sionally happen in relation to hunting. A half-breed hunter, 
named Pierre Geraud, living near Fort Isle a la Crosse, in 
laying out his trapping trail one winter, had set one of his 
mink deadfalls in a swamp close to the water-line; and on visit- 
ing the trap after the spring flood, foimd a large pike caught in 
it. All the signs showed that when the flood had been at its 
height the fish had been swinoming about, and on discovering 
the bait set for mink had seized it, and in trying to make away 
with it had set ofif the trap, the heavy drop-log faUing and 
killing the fish. 

When I expressed surprise that an animal should have in- 
telligence enough not only to find a buried trap, but to dig 
it up and then spring it without being caught, Oo-koo-hoo 
explained that it was not so much a matter of animal in- 
teUigence as of man's stupidity; for whenever that happened it 
did not prove to the animal's credit, but to man's discredit; 
the careless hunter having simply left enough man-smell on the 
trap to form a guide that told the animal exactly where the trap 
lay. Then, the overwhelming curiosity of the fox had com- 
pelled it to investigate the mystery by digging it up, and when 
found, the fox in its usual way would play with the strange 



90 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

object; just as a domestic kitten would do, and so the fox would 
set off the trap. 

THE LAST RESORT 

On my first trips into the forest, whenever I questioned 
an Indian hunter as to the cause of this or that, the complete- 
ness of his graphic explanation always puzzled me; for I could 
not understand how it was that when he was not an eye- 
witness, he knew all the details of the affair as well as though 
the dead animal itself had told him the full story. Rut when I, 
too, began to study Nature's book on woodcraft, it amazed me 
no longer; for then I realized that to those who had studied 
enough it was easy to read the drama of the forest; especially 
in the winter, for then Nature never fails to record it, and 
every story is always published just where it happens. Even 
to those who have not taken the Indian degree in woodcraft, 
it is not difficult to read in winter time the annals of animal 
life in the forest, for then Nature describes with ample detail 
many an interesting story. In winter time, too, even a blind 
Indian can foUow a trail of which a town-bred man with normal 
sight could see no trace. 

If his steel traps fail, the Indian may resort to still another 
method — the gun trap — regardless of the fact that this may 
lessen the value of the animal's pelt. A gun, first carefully 
cleaned and loaded with the exception of the cap, is placed in 
a nearly horizontal position about two feet above the snow and 
lashed securely to two posts; the barrel slanting downward to 
a point about a foot in height and eight feet away. At that 
precise spot the bait stick is so fixed that when the fox seizes the 
bait, its head will be directly in line with the gun-barrel. Fas- 
tened to the bait by one end will be a thong, the other end of 
which will be attached to the trigger, and will discharge the gun 
when the bait is seized. When all is in readiness, the cap is 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 91 

put on the nipple, and a birch-bark shelter arranged to keep 
the gun-lock free from falling snow. Brush is then placed in 
the snow in such a way that it will cause the fox to approach 
from only one direction, and that the one the hunter desires. 
It is not a good trap, being very uncertain, as whiskey-jacks, 
ermine, mice, or rabbits may meddle with it, and set it off. It 
is seldom used except for wolverine. 

Frequently the value an Indian places upon a certain pelt 
is determined not according to its quality, but according to 
the trouble the animal caused him in securing it, and for that 
reason he will sometimes expect more for a red fox pelt than 
for the skin of a beautiful black fox. Then, in order to retain 
the Indian's goodwill, the experienced trader will humour him 
by giving the price asked, and count on making up his loss in 
another way. 

In hunting fur-bearers poison should never be used, since it 
bleaches the fur and thus reduces its value. Moreover, it is 
apt to kill in an almost endless chain many forest creatures 
besides the animal sought, as they may feed on the first victim 
to the deadly drug. 

The hunter's last resort in trapping the coloured fox is to set a 
snare for him. In setting a snare the Chipewyan and northern 
Indians always use a tossing-pole, while most of the southern 
and eastern Indians use a spring-pole; the difference being 
that a tossing-pole is usually made by bending down a small 
tree — the size of the tree being determined by the size of the 
game — to the top of which is fastened the snare; or the tossing- 
pole may be made by cutting a pole for that purpose. The 
result, however, being that the moment the snare is sprung the 
tossing-pole flies free, and hauhng the game into the air, holds 
it there out of reach of other animals that might rob the hunter 
of his prize. A spring-pole is made by setting a springy pole 
in such a position that when the snare is sprung, the tension is 
released, and the pole, springing up, hauls the animal against 



92 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

a stationary bar set horizontally above the loop of the snare, 
and holds the quarry there. Many kinds of anunals are caught 
with snares, and in size they run all the way from rabbits to 
bears and even to the great bull-moose. 

HUNTER CAUGHT IN SNARE 

Snares, steel traps, and deadfalls that are set for large game 
are dangerous even for man to approach carelessly, and some- 
times even the trapper himself has the misfortune to be caught 
in the very trap he has set for some other animal. Early one 
winter, in fact, just after the first hea\^ snowfall, and while 
some bears were still roaming about, before turning in for their 
long winter sleep, an Indian hunter — I have forgotten his 
name — assisted by his son, had just set a powerful snare for 
bears. Soon after starting for home, the hunter, discovering 
that he had left his pipe by the trap, told his son to go on to 
camp, and he would return to recover his treasure. On arriving 
at the snare, he saw his pipe lying just beyond his reach at the 
back of the loop, but instead of walking round the brush fence 
and picking it up from behind, as he should have done, he 
foolishly put his leg through the snare in order to reach and 
dislodge his pipe. By some evil chance his foot caught upon 
the loop; and instantly he was violently jerked, heels over head, 
into the air, and there hung head downward strugghng for his 
hfe. He had made the tossing-pole from a strong tree, up 
which his son had climbed with a line, and by their combined 
weight they had forced the tree top over and down until they 
could secure it by setting the snare. The tossing-pole, when 
the snare went off, sprung up with such force that it not only 
dislocated the hunter's right leg at the knee, but it threw his 
knife out of its sheath, and, consequently, he had no means by 
which he could cut the hne, nor could he unfasten it or even 
cliDob up — for he was hanging clear of the tree. Presently, 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 93 

however, he began to bleed from the nose and ears; and in his 
violent effort to struggle free, he noticed that he was swinging 
from side to side; then it dawned upon him that if he could only 
increase the radius of his swing he might manage to reach and 
seize hold of the tree, climb up to slacken the line, unfasten the 
snare, and set himself free. This, after much violent effort, 
he finally accomplished; but even when he reached the ground, 
everything seemed utterly hopeless, for on account of his dis- 
located leg, he could not walk. So there he lay all night long. 
During twilight, as fate ordained, the wounded man had a 
visitor; it was a bear, and no doubt the very bear for which he 
had set his snare. But the bear, in approaching, did not notice 
the man until it was almost on top of him, and then it became 
so frightened that it tore up into a neighbouring tree and there 
remained for hours. By midnight, however, it came down, 
and then it was the suffering hunter's turn to become alarmed, 
for the big brute passed very close to him before it finally walked 
away. A little after sunrise the hunter's son arrived, but not 
being able to carry his father, and fearing lest the bear might 
return before he could secure help, he decided to leave his 
father there, while he went in search of the bear. Tracking it, 
he soon came upon it and shot it dead. Back he hastened to 
camp and, with his mother, returned with a sled and hauled 
the wounded man home. 

THE FOX AT HOME 

The "coloured" foxes, including the red, the cross, the silver, 
and the black — the latter three being merely colour phases 
of the former and not separate species, as has frequently been 
proved, but all four having been found in the same fitter — mate 
in February and March. They pair and remain faithful partners. 
The father also helps in feeding and caring for the young which 
are born about fifty days after the mating season. The litter 



94 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

contains from three to ten, and when a few weeks old the young 
Eire as playful and as interesting as domestic kittens. The den 
in which they are born may be a hollow tree, a hollow log, or 
more often an underground tunnel with several entrances and 
a storeroom besides the hving chamber. The nest is never 
lined, but left quite bare and is kept clean. Their principal 
food is derived from mice, birds, fowl, and rabbits; and the 
parents frequently cache food for both their young and them- 
selves. No wonder they are good providers, for what with 
their keen sense of scent and their great speed they seldon 
fail in their hunts. They are fond of open country and have 
an individual range of very few miles, perhaps ten at the most. 
In winter they run singly imtil the mating season; seldom 
are the tracks of more than two foxes seen together, and their 
principal enemies are men, wolves, lynxes, and dogs. 

As the district through which we were passing was rich in 
fox-signs, Oo-koo-hoo set a number of traps. Such work takes 
time, and when we reached a weU-wooded grove of second- 
growth birch, poplars, and — along a httle creek — willows, we 
began to think of where we should camp for the night. Re- 
sides, the old hunter deemed it an ideal spot iu which to set 
lynx and rabbit snares. So while the boys cut wood for the 
fire and brush for our beds, and then turned to the cooking of 
supper, Oo-koo-hoo cut a great mass of birch, poplar, and willow 
branches cind tops, and threw them into piles, not only to at- 
tract the rabbits thither, but to afford them a prolonged feast 
for many weeks, and thus fatten them for his o^vn use; more- 
over, the gathering of the rabbits would prove a strong attrac- 
tion for the lynxes of the region. Sometimes, at such a spot, 
hundreds of rabbits will feed, and in winter time the place may 
become such a network of runways that if it happens to be a 
fairly open hillside one can see from half a mile away the 
shadows of the endless tracks that mark the ghstening snow in 
all directions. 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 95 

During the years of great plenty — which the Indians and 
traders assert come about every seventh year — the number of 
rabbits in some sections of the northern forest is ahnost beyond 
behef. Then a plague suddenly overtakes them, almost wiping 
them out of existence, and several years elapse before the dis- 
ease disappears and they begin to increase again. The plague, 
of course, is the rabbit's greatest enemy, then follows the lynx, 
the fox, the wolf, and many other animals and even birds such 
as the owl and the hawk; but somewhere among that destruc- 
tive group man plays a prominent part. 

THE RABBIT AND THE HUNTER 

The rabbit, or more properly the varying-hare, of the north- 
ern forest is also called the snowshoe rabbit, from the fact that 
nature has provided it with remarkable feet that allow it to run 
with ease over the deepest and softest snow. It wears a coat 
that changes colour with the changing seasons: brown in summer 
and white in winter. Its food is derived principally from the 
bark of the poplar, the willow, and the birch. In winter time 
rabbits are found to be fattest when the moon is fuU, and that is 
accounted for by the fact that they feed at night, and feed most 
when the moon is giving light. Besides, on stormy nights, 
especially between moons, they remain more under cover and 
feel less inclined to venture out even to secure their needed 
food. In all the north woods there is no animal that is of more 
use to man, beast, or bird, than the rabbit, nor is there any 
animal that is so friendly to aU alike; yet no other creature of 
the wilderness is so preyed upon as the rabbit. But in winter 
its safety hes not so much in the great speed it possesses as in 
its snowshoe feet and in its skill in dodging. Rabbits mate in 
March and April, the usual litter of three or four being born 
about a month later. The nest is usually on the ground in 
some sheltered place under brushwood that forms a good pro- 



96 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

tection, and the nest is lined with leaves, grass, or their own 
cast-off fur. 

A rabbit snare is made of fine babiche, sinew, cord, or 
wire, and the loop is hung over a rabbit runway just high 
enough to catch it round the neck. In its struggles it sets off 
the spring or tossing-pole, thus usually ending its sufferings. 
When thus caught the flesh is tender and sweet; but when 
caught by a leg the flesh is flabby and tasteless, the reason being 
that when caught by the neck the rabbit is killed almost in- 
stantly ; but when snared by a leg it hangs struggling in pain for 
hours before it finally bleeds at the nose and dies, or is frozen 
to death. When the latter happens, however, the rabbit is 
usually thrown to a dog or used for trap bait. The reason 
Oo-koo-hoo set the rabbit snares was not so much for present 
needs as to provide meals for the hunter while on his future 
rounds; also to keep on hand a goodly supply of trap bait. 

Expert hunters, when they have time, prefer to hunt rabbits 
by calling them. In the rutting season they imitate the love- 
call of the female, and in other seasons they mimic the cries of 
the young; in either case, the unsuspecting animals come loping 
from all directions, and the hunter bowls them over with fine 
shot. Calling takes much practice, but when the hunter has 
become an adept, it is the easiest and the quickest way of 
catching them. 

In relation to setting snares for rabbits, Mrs. Wm. Corn- 
wallis King, the wife of a well-known Hudson's Bay Company's 
chief trader, once had an unusual experience. She had set for 
rabbits a number of snares made of piano wire, and when visiting 
them one morning she was astonished and delighted, too, to 
find caught in one of her snares a beautiful silver fox ; stranger 
still, the fox was caught by its tongue. As usual, after in- 
vestigation, the snow told the whole story in a graphic way. 
It showed that the fox had been pursuing a rabbit, both going 
on the full run, and the latter always dodging in the effort to 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 97 

escape from its enemy. Finally, the rabbit had bolted past the 
snare, and the panting fox, with its tongue hanging out, follow- 
ing close behind, accidentally had touched its wet tongue 
against the wire, and the frost of many degrees below zero had 
instantly frozen it there. Then the fox, struggling to get free, 
had set off the snare, which closing on its tongue had hauled it 
into the air, where it had hung with just the tip of its tail and 
its hind toes resting on the snow. When Mrs. King found it, 
it was dead. 

That evening, when the fire sank low and we turned in, a 
pack of timber wolves for fully an hour sang us a most interest- 
ing lullaby; such a one, indeed, that it made the goose-flesh run 
up and down our backs — or rather my back — ^just as really 
fine music always does; and to tell the truth, I enjoyed it more 
than many a human concert I have heard. 

HUNTING THE LYNX 

It was cool next morning and cloudy and threatening snow. 
Five rabbits had been caught during the night, and after break- 
fast we turned to setting lynx snares. The steel trap is set for 
the lynx much in the same way as it is for the fox; but for 
the lynx, a snare is preferable. It is set with or without a 
tossing-pole, at the entrance of a brush-lodge, the base of which 
is about five feet wide. The bait used is made by rubbing 
beaver castorum on a bit of rabbit skin placed in a spht stick set 
vertically in the centre of the lodge. A surer way, however, is 
to also set a steel trap in front of the lodge door, so that if the 
lynx does not enter, he may be caught while looking in. The 
Indians often hunt them with dogs, for, when pursued, the 
lynx soon takes to a tree and then is easily shot. But the most 
proficient hunters hke to hunt them by calhng. They imitate 
its screech and also its whistle, for the lynx whistles some- 
what hke a jack-rabbit, though the sound is coarser and 



98 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

louder. Some Indians are very successful in this mode of 
hunting. 

Besides being able to whistle, the lynx far surpasses the 
domestic cat in the range and volume of his evening song; and 
during the rutting season, at sunrise and sunset, he has a 
peculiar habit of beating or drumming with his forepaws on 
the hard snow or earth. No doubt it is a form of challenge, 
used much in the same way as the drumming of cock-grouse; 
martens and rabbits do the same. The lynx is a wonderful 
swimmer and is dangerous to tackle in the water, for he can 
turn with remarkable agihty, and board a canoe in a moment. 
Of all northern animals he is perhaps the most silent walker, 
for in the night a band of five or six lynxes may pass close beside 
one's tent and never be heard, though a single rabbit, passing 
at the same distance, may make enough noise to awaken a 
sound sleeper. Though he often behaves hke a coward, 
hunters approach him with care when he is caught in a steel 
trap, as he can make a great spring and when he chooses, can 
fight desperately. While in summer he is a poor runner, in 
winter he is greatly aided by his big feet, which act as snow- 
shoes and help him over the soft snow and the deep drifts. Few 
animals succeed in kilhng him, for what with his unusual speed 
in water and the fact that he can climb a tree with almost the 
ease of a monkey, his chances of escape are always good. 

Lynxes mate in March, the young being born about three 
months later, the htter consisting of from one to five. The 
father assists in the support of the kittens, which are much like 
those of the domestic cat. The lynx's coat is gray mottled 
with brown, but in winter it turns a fighter colour; in weight he 
rmis from thirty-five to forty-five pounds. His principal food 
is derived from rabbits and any other animals he can kill, from 
beaver down, as weU as grouse, ptarmigan, and other birds 
and fowl; occasionaUy he wiU tackle the young of deer, but 
he never dares to molest man. When his catch is more than 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 99 

sufficient for his present need, he caches the remainder in snow 
or earth for future use. He is as cleanly as a house cat, and his 
flesh when cooked resembles a cross between rabbit and veal. 



MARTEN TRAPPING 

After setting a number of snares for lynxes we resumed our 
march, and on rounding the end of a httle lake, saw two fresh 
moose-tracks. Following them up, we finally came to a park- 
hke region, where was very httle underbrush, and where most 
of the trees were pine and spruce — an ideal spot for marten. 
So Oo-koo-hoo, forgetting all about his moose-tracks, made 
ready to set some marten traps. 

For one marten an Indian catches in a steel trap he catches 
a dozen in wooden deadfalls; but with the white trapper it is 
difi'erent — he rehes chiefly on the steel traps. Steel traps are 
set either in the open or in the tracks of the marten in ex- 
actly the same way as for foxes, and either with or without 
tossing-poles. The largest and best deadfalls used by the In- 
dians are those they set for bears. The city-dwelling author, 
or illustrator, who has not hved in the wilderness, would never 
think of depicting an Indian trapper with a big hand-auger 
hanging from his belt, perhaps no more than he would depict 
a pirate armed with a big Bible; yet, nevertheless, it is a fact 
that the Indian trapper nowadays carries an auger much as 
the old buccaneer carried his cutlass — thrust through his belt. 
Somehow or other, I never could associate Oo-koo-hoo 's big 
wooden-handled auger with his gun and powder-horn, and all 
the while I was curious as to what use he was going to make of 
it. Now I was to have my curiosity satisfied. 

First he selected an evergreen tree about a foot in diameter — 
this time it was a pine — and with his axe cut a horizontal notch 
one to two inches deep; then he blazed the tree six or eight 
inches down to the notch, in order to form a smooth, flat sur- 



100 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

face; then he took his big auger and bored down into the tree, at 
an indine of about twenty degrees, a hole of two inches' diame- 
ter and nine inches deep. Allowing at that spot for two feet of 
snow, he had bored the hole about thirty inches above ground. 
Then taking two inch-and-a-quarter, thin, sharp-pointed nails 
he drove them obliquely into the tree just above the hole, so 
that about three quarters of each protruded into the hole. He 
did the same with two other nails below the hole, but this time 
drove them upward until they, too, protruded into the hole. 
Both sets of nails were driven in about an inch and a quarter 
apart. The bait used was a duck's head placed at the bottom 
of the hole. The idea was that when the marten scented the 
bait, he would crawl into the hole to secure it; but when he 
tried to withdraw, he would find hunself entrapped by the four 
sharp-pointed nails that, though they allowed him to slip in, 
now prevented him from backing out as they ran into his flesh, 
and held him until the hunter, placing two fingers of each hand 
over the four nail-points, seizing with his teeth the animal's 
tail, and throwing back his head, would draw his victim out. 
But such work is rather risky, as the hunter may be bitten 
before he has a chance to kill the marten. 

Though it is a very recent mode of trapping — only about 
thirty-five years old — it is now considered the best of all ways 
for taking marten, as the traps not only remain set all winter, 
but they last for years. Later I learned from a chief factor 
that it was invented by a Saulteaux Indian named Ke-now- 
keoose, who was at one time employed as a servant of the 
Hudson's Bay Company, where he learned the use of car- 
penter's tools — later, when he left the service, he hunted and 
trapped along the Athabasca, the Slave, and the Mackenzie 
rivers. Sometimes twenty-five to thirty such traps are set by 
a hunter in a single day. Mink and ermine are often caught 
in them, and on one occasion even a wolverine was taken. The 
wolverine, having scented the bait, followed it up, and while 




The lynx is an expert swimmer and is dangerous to tackle in 
the ivater, for he can turn ivith remarkable agility, and board a 
canoe in a moment. Of all northern animals he is perhaps the most 
silent walker. Though he often behaves like a coward, hunters 
approach him with care when he is cauglit in a steel trap, as he can 
make a great spring and when he chooses, can . . . See Cliapter III 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 101 

endeavouring to secure the dainty duck's head, thrust his 
forepaw into the hole and was thus taken prisoner. 

Oo-koo-hoo took pains to teach the boys everything in rela- 
tion to trapping, and as soon as he was sure they had mastered 
the details of setting such traps, he went ahead with his axe to 
blaze the right trees, while the boys followed with the auger, 
and in the work of boring the holes and driving the nails took 
turn and turn about. But after all, the old-fashioned deadfall 
is more humane than any other way of trapping, as it often 
ends the animal's suffering at once by killing it outright, instead 
of holding it a prisoner till it starves or is frozen to death, before 
the hunter arrives on his usual weekly round of that particular 
trapping path. 

Martens mate in February or March, the young being born 
about three months later, either in a hole in the ground or in a 
hollow tree; the nest being lined with moss, grass, or leaves, and 
the litter numbering usually from two to four. The marten is a 
wonderfully energetic little animal, even more tireless than the 
squirrel and as great a climber. It is an expert hunter and its 
food includes birds, fish, chipmunks, birds' eggs, mice, fruit, 
and rabbits; and it stores its surplus food by burying it. 

MINK ON THE FUR TRAIL 

By the time Oo-koo-hoo and his grandsons had set twelve 
or fifteen traps it was nearing noon, so we had lunch before 
starting off in search of another rich game region. While on 
our way that afternoon the old hunter again discovered signs 
of wolverines and it worried him, for it meant not only the 
destruction of many of his traps, but also the ruining of 
the pelts of some of the animals he might catch. Continuing, 
we soon entered an ideal valley for mink, where two turbulent 
httle crystal streams roared at one another as they sprang 
together among the rocks and then fell down into dark, 



102 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

eddying pools where, no doubt, trout leaped after flies in due 
season. 

The mink is a small animal, about two feet long, including 
his tail. In colour he is of a dark, rich brown. Though he is 
not a swift runner and is rather a poor climber, he is an excel- 
lent swimmer and is a desperate fighter of great strength. 
Minks mate in February and March; the female burrowing in a 
bank, a rocky crevice, or beneath a log or a stump, or perhaps in 
a hollow tree; the nest is lined with moss, feathers, or grass, and 
the young are born about forty days after the mating season. 
The minks' food may be flesh, fish, or fowl and, if overstocked, 
it is stored for future use. 

On land, the mink is caught exactly as the fox, the fisher, or 
the marten is caught, except, of course, that there is a difference 
in the size of the traps. In water, the steel trap is set just be- 
low the surface and rests on the muddy or sandy bottom, where 
it is half covered with soil as it Ues in readiness close to the bank 
where the mink is in the habit of passing in and out of the 
strccim. Mixed bait is placed on the branches of the near-by 
bushes. In order, however, to better his chances of catching 
the mink, the hunter may build a deadfall near the trap, where 
the animal is in the habit of entering the bush. Then extra 
bait of rancid fish or duck is used. This mode of water- 
trapping applies, also, to muskrat, otter, and beaver. The 
mink, however, is a stupid creature, and it does not require 
great skiU to trap him ; but the hunter, nevertheless, must take 
care when removing him from the trap, for the httle brute 
has the heart of a Hon and will tackle anything, regardless of 
size. 

We camped that night on the hiUside overlooking "Mink 
Creek" as Oo-koo-hoo caUed it, and next morning we again 
set out on our circular way, for on leaving our lodges, we first 
headed almost due west for about three miles, then we turned 
south for two more, and graduaUy working round, we were soon 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 103 

facing east; that course we followed for a day, then on the 
morrow we worked round toward the north, and fmally to 
the west again, as we neared home. Thus the trapping path 
was laid in an elliptic form, somewhat suggesting the letter C, 
with the home camp between the two ends of the letter. Many 
times during the winter circumstances proved the wisdom 
of Oo-koo-hoo's plan, especially when the sled became over- 
loaded with game, and a short cut to camp became desirable. 
Though no part of his fur path lay more than five miles from 
the lodges, yet to make the full circuit on showshoes, to examine 
the traps, and to set some of them, it required a long day, as the 
path must have covered in a zig-zagging way more than twenty 
miles. Later on he and Amik laid out two more such trapping 
paths: one to the north and the other to the east of Bear Lake. 
The one to the northward was to be especially for bears and 
wolves as it was a good region for both those animals. At sup- 
per time a snow flurry overtook us and whitened the forest. 
As we sat around the fire that evening, the last evening of 
our trip, Oo-koo-hoo again began worrying about the presence 
of wolverines, recaUing many of his experiences with those 
destructive animals. But none of his stories equalled the 
following, told once by Chief Factor Thompson. 

MEGUIR AND THE WOLVERINE 

It happened years ago when an old Dog-rib Indian, called 
Meguir, was hving and hunting in the vicinity of Fort Rae on 
Great Slave Lake. The Dog-rib and his family of five had been 
hunting Barren Ground Caribou, and after killing, skinning, and 
cutting up a number of deer, had built a stage upon which they 
placed the venison. Moving on and encountering another 
herd of caribou, they killed again, and cutting up the game, 
stored it this time in a log cache. Again setting out on the 
hun-t — ^for they were laying in their supply of deer meat for the 



104 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

winter — they again met with success; but as it was in a district 
devoid of trees, they simply covered the meat with brush; and 
while Meguir and his wife set off to haul the first lot of meat to 
camp, the three grandchildren set to work to haul in the last. 
On continuing their work the next day the children brought 
in word that a wolverine, or carcajou, had visited the log 
cache; so Meguir set off at once to investigate the story. 

When he arrived, he found the cache torn asunder, and the 
meat gone. Wolverine tracks were plentiful and mottled the 
snow in many directions, but on circling, Meguir found a trail 
that led away, and on following it up, he came upon a quarter 
of deer. He circled again, trailed another track, found more 
meat, and after a few hours' work he had recovered most of the 
venison; but on smelling it, he found that the wolverine, in its 
usual loathsome way, had defiled the meat. Then, on going to 
his stage, Meguir found that it, too, had been visited by the 
wolverine, as the stage had been torn down and the meat 
defiled. Indignantlat the outrage, the old Dog-rib determined to 
hunt the carcajou and destroy it. But before doing so, he made 
sure that all his deer meat was hauled to camp and safely stored 
upon the stages beside his lodge. That night, however, his old 
wife woke up with a start and hearing the dogs growhng, looked 
out, and discovered a strange animal scrambhng down from one 
of the stages. At once she screamed to her old man to get his 
gun as fast as The Master of Life would let him, as the wolverine 
was robbing them again. 

Half-awake, and that half all excitement, the old man rushed 
out into the snow with his muzzle-loading flintlock and let 
drive. Instantly one of his dogs fell over. Roaring with 
rage, the old Indian re-loaded with all speed, and catching 
another glimpse of the wolverine in the faint hght of the Aurora 
Boreahs, let drive again; but as ill-luck would have it, the gun 
went off just as another of his dogs made a gallant charge, and 
once more a dog fell dead — and the wolverine got away I 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 105 

Nothing would now do but that the old man must seek his 
revenge at the earliest possible moment, so when dawn broke 
he was already following the trail of the malicious raider. All 
day he trailed it through the snow, and just before dusk the 
tracks told him that he was very near his quarry; but rather 
than run the risk of firing in a poor fight, he decided not to 
despatch the brute until day fight came. 

According to the northern custom, when he camped that 
night, he stood his gun and snowshoes in the snow far enough 
away to prevent their being affected by the heat of the fire. 
In the morning his snowshoes were gone. Tracks, however, 
showed that the wolverine had taken them. Again the old man 
trailed the thief; but without snowshoes, the going was extra 
hard, and it was afternoon before he stumbled upon one of his 
snowshoes lying in the snow, and quite near his former camp, 
as the "Great Mischief Maker" had simply made a big circuit 
and come back again. But of what use was one snowshoe? So 
the old hunter continued his search, and late that day found the 
other — damaged beyond repair. 

That night, fiUed with rage and despondency, he returned to 
his old camp, and as usual placed his gun upright in the snow 
away from the heat of the fire. In the morning it was gone. 
New tracks marked the snow and showed where the carcajou 
had dragged it away. Several hours later the old man found 
it with its case torn to ribbons, the butt gnawed, and the 
trigger broken. 

Tired, hungry, dejected, and enraged, old Meguir sought his 
last night's camp to make a fire and to rest awhile; but when he 
got there he found he had lost his fire bag containing his flint 
and steel — his wherewithal for making fire. Again he went in 
search, but fresh-falling snow had so obliterated the trail and 
so hindered his progress, that it was late before he recovered his 
treasure, and regained his dead fireplace. Yet still the wolver- 
ine was at large. 



106 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

But instead of thinking of wreaking his rage upon the 
wolverine, the poor old Indian was so completely intimidated 
by the wily brute, so discouraged and so despondent, that he 
imagined that the whole transaction was the work of some evil 
spirit. As a result, he not only gave up hunting the wolverine, 
but he gave up hunting altogether, and he and his family would 
have starved had not friends come to their rescue and rendered 
them assistance until his grandsons were old enough to take 
charge. 

PREPARING FOR WINTER 

After our return to the home-camp we experienced several 
weeks of perfect Indian summer, and its passing was marked by 
one of the most beautiful natural phenomena I have ever seen. 
It happened when the deciduous trees were at their height of 
autumnal glory, and when — as though to add still more to the 
wonderful scene — three inches of clinging snow having fallen 
during the night, glittered under the brilliant morning sun. 
Truly it was a glory to behold — a perfect panorama of rioting 
greens, yellows, browns, blues, reds, grays, crimsons, purples, in 
fact, every colour which an artist's palette could carry; and 
through it all was ever woven a mass of lace-Uke brilliant white 
that dazzled the eyes of the beholder. Only once in fifty years 
have I beheld a scene so enchanting. 

Next day, however, a strong wind blew wild-looking leaden 
clouds over the forest, and Autumn, taking fright, threw aside 
her gorgeous rustling mantle and fled away; while the loons on 
the lake fairly shrieked with laughter. 

Meanwhile, the work in preparation for the coming of winter 
had made good progress. Already the women and children 
had laid out their own httle trapping paths — principally for 
ermine, rabbits, partridges, muskrats, and skunks, the game 
found nearest camp; and many another thing had the women 
attended to. Though they still possessed the sticking-plaster 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 107 

and the painkiller supplied by the trader, they refused to rely on 
the white man's trivial cure-alls, as they could gather better 
remedies from their own woods. Their chief reason for buying 
"painkiller" was that they, hke other Indians, relished it as a 
cocktail on festival occasions; and many a time have I seen a 
group of Indians — like civihzed society people — topping off 
cocktails (of painkiller) before sitting down to dinner. 

In case of illness, however, the Indians resort much to bleed- 
ing, and this is the mode of operation: a sharp flint is fastened 
to the spht end of a stick, a U-shaped piece of wood is laid over 
the intended spot, and the thickness of the wood determines the 
depth of the incision. The flint end of the stick is raised while 
the other end is held down in such a way as to bend the stick; on 
releasing the end containing the flint, the stick strikes down- 
ward and drives the flint into the flesh to the required depth 
and no more. The bowl of a pipe is then applied to the cut, 
and the blood is drawn off through the stem. Young birch 
roots boiled in a second water make a tea which they sweeten 
with sugar and use as a laxative. Yellow water-lily roots are 
boiled until a black sediment forms — somewhat similar to 
iodine in appearance — and with a feather dipped in this liquid 
wounds are painted in order to consume proud flesh and to 
prevent mortification. The upper tips — about four inches 
long — of juniper trees having been boiled, and the outer bark 
removed, the inner bark is scraped off and mashed up for 
poultices. The liquor in which the juniper has been boiled is 
employed for washing wounds, as it causes the rapid formation 
of a healing cicatrix. To cure colic, the dried root of the "rat 
root" is chewed, and the juice swaUowed. 

Among other work that was weU xmder way was the making 
of the moccasins, known as the "mitten moccasin" — by far 
the best for snowshoeing, as the seam runs round only the outer 
side of the foot and leaves no puckering above the toes to cause 
bhstering. True, the mitten moccasin is not of the Ojibway 



108 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

style, but Mrs. Oo-koo-hoo had learned to make it when she 
and her husband formerly sojourned among the Wood-Crees 
on the upper Athabasca. 

Supplying the family with socks was a very easy affair, 
as these articles were simply rectangular shapes, 12 x 18 inches 
(for adults) cut from duffle — a woollen material resembling an 
extra closely woven H.B.C. blanket — and worn wrapped about 
the foot. Such socks have an advantage over the ordinary kind 
as they are more easily dried, and they wear much longer, as the 
sock can be shifted about every time the wearer puts it on, thus 
warding off the evil day when holes appear. 

Amik, during the summer, had made a number of snowshoe 
frames, and now the women were lacing them. They used 
fine caribou thongs, especially fine for the heel and toe. I have 
seen snowshoes that white men have strung with cord; but 
cord is of little use, for cord, or rope, shrinks when wet and 
stretches when dry, whereas deerskin stretches when wet and 
shrinks when drying. Of all deerskin, however, that of caribou 
stretches less when wet than any other; besides, it is much 
stronger and that is why it makes the best mesh for snowshoes. 
In lacing a shoe, a wooden needle is used, but the eye, instead of 
being at one end, is in the centre. Amik had also started 
work on several hunting sleds of the toboggan type — the only 
kind used by the natives of the Great Northern Forest. They 
are made of birch wood and not of birch bark, as a noted Ameri- 
can author asserted in one of his books on northern life. 

A hunting sled is made of two thin boards, spht from a birch 
log by using wooden wedges, and the boards are shaved flat and 
smooth, first with the aid of a very sharp axe and then with a 
crooked knife. A hunting sled is ten to twelve inches wide, and 
commonly eight feet long. The widest part of the sled is at the 
first cross-bar, then it tapers both ways, an inch less at the tail, 
and four or five inches less at the end of its gracefully curved 
prow. That is done to prevent jamming among trees. The 



00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 109 

two boards are fastened to four cross-bars with deerskin thongs, 
never with pegs or nails, and the ground-lashing is made fast to 
the cross-bars. A wrapper of deerskin is provided in which to 
lash the load. The lashing thong is eighteen to twenty feet 
in length. Dog-sleds are made much longer, and up to about 
sixteen inches in width, and are provided with an extra line 
that trails out behind, by which the driver holds back the sled 
when going down hill, in order to prevent it from over-running 
the dogs. A hunting-sled, however, is usually hauled by man 
by means of a looped strap, or tump-hne, with a broad centre 
which goes over the hunter's shoulders or head, and has its two 
ends fastened to the first cross-bar below the prow. 

During the next few days Oo-koo-hoo and Amik had also 
finished setting their traps, snares, and deadfalls for all the 
furred creatures of the woods, including wolves and bears. 
Already the camp had taken on a business-hke air, for the big 
stretching frames for the skins of moose, bear, and caribou had 
been erected near the lodges; and as the hunters had secured 
both moose and caribou, the frames were already in use. 
Trapping had begun in earnest, and though fairly successful — 
a number of fine skins having been already taken — the hunters 
were still worried over the wolverines. On one path alone they 
had found nothing but a fox's foot, and the tails of four martens; 
besides, several of their traps were missing. In another place, 
where they had dressed a caribou killed by Oo-koo-hoo, and had 
left the meat overnight for the women and boys to haul in next 
day, wolverines had found it and defiled it in their usual way. 

The women, too, had had their troubles as owls had visited 
their snares, and robbed them of many a pelt. Worse in some 
respects than the wolverine is the owl, for while the wolverine 
leaves a track that one can trail, and either find what is left of 
the game, or overtake and punish the marauder, the owl leaves 
no trail at all, and though he frequently eats only the brain or 
eyes of the game, he has a habit of carrying the game away and 



110 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

dropping it in the distant woods where it is seldom found. So 
the women took to setting steel traps on the ends of upright 
poles upon which they judged the owls would alight, as these 
birds are much given to resting upon the tips of "ram-pikes," 
and in that way they had caught several. 

One evening early in November, after a hard day's travel 
through a big storm of wet, chnging snow, we sat by the fire 
in Oo-koo-hoo's lodge, and happily commented on the fact 
that we had got everything in good shape for the coming of 
winter. Next morning, when we went outside, we found that 
everything was covered with a heavy blanket of chnging snow, 
and the streams and the lake beginning to freeze over. We 
found, also, to our amazement that a big bull-moose had been 
standing on the bank of Muskrat Creek and watching the smoke 
rising from our lodges as the fires were lighted at sunrise — just 
as I have shown in my painting. 

After a hurried breakfast, we three men set out in pursuit of 
the moose which we overtook within a mile, and then there was 
meat to haul on sleds to our camp. That day the temperature 
fell rapidly, and by night the little streams were strongly frozen, 
and around the lake the ice stretched far out from the shore. 
So we gathered up the canoes and stored them for the winter 
upside down upon stages made for the purpose; and that night 
before we turned in we saw, for the first time that season, 
Akwutinoowe — "The Freezing Moon." 



IV 
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 

TRAILING THE BEAR 

"My son, a good hunter is never long in doubt; for when 
he discovers a bear track and follows it for a few hundred paces, 
he knows whether the track was made by day or by night, 
whether the bear was large or small, old or young, male or fe- 
male; whether its coat wasin condition ornot;whether the beast 
was merely wandering or travelhng with a purpose in view; 
whether it was frightened or undisturbed; whether going 
fast or slow; and whether seeking friends or food. Also, the 
hunter knows which way the wind was blowing when the 
track was made, he knows whether the bear felt tired or 
active, and, furthermore, whether or not it wanted to go to 
bed." 

I laughed aloud. 

Instantly the old man's kindly face was clouded with a 
frown and he exclaimed : 

"My son . . . that was the laugh of a monias (green- 
horn)", and glaring at me, he added: "At first, I thought 
better of you, but now I am sure that all white men are 
fools!" 

Realizing my mistake, I sobered, and suggested that if he 
would explain I would have a chance to learn the ways of a 
great hunter. 

" My son, it is a simple matter to read a track — that is, when 
one has learned the game. For then one has but to look, re- 
member, and reason, and then the whole story unfolds before 

111 



112 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

your eyes; just as when you open and read what you white men 
caU a book. And some day, my son, if you try hard to leam, 
you, too, may be able to read the tales of the Strong Woods 
Country. Now listen to your grandfather and he will explain: 
under ordinary conditions a deep, clear track implies action; 
a faint, shallow one, inaction; the length of the stride indicates 
the speed ; if, when traveUing slow, hair is found upon the imder- 
wood, the animal passed at night, for in daylight a bear is as 
careful as a lynx to avoid striking things ; if the bear is young 
or middle aged, the claw marks are sharp and clean cut; if it is 
old, they are blunt and blurred. The tracks of the male, 
though larger, are not so round as those of the female, and the 
male's toes are not only longer and spread farther apart, but the 
underside of his foot is not so hairy as that of his mate. Then, 
too, as you know, there are other signs by which a tracker tells 
the sex of his quarry. Now if the bear was travelling with a 
definite purpose in mind, he would travel straight, or as nearly 
straight as he could through the woods, and in order to save 
time, he might even occasionally climb a tree to spy out the lay 
of the land — as he frequently does. Then, again, if he were 
feeding, the ground and growth beside his trail would show it; 
if suddenly startled, he would leave the famihar sign that all 
large animals usually leave when frightened; and, moreover, it 
would be left within fifty paces of the place where he took 
fright. Furthermore, if he were tired and wanted to rest, he 
would begin circling down wind, so that he could come about 
close to his back trail, and then lie down, facing down wind, in 
such a position that he could see anything he could not scent, 
and scent anything he could not see. Thus if an enemy ap- 
proached, his eyes would guard his front while his scent would 
guard his rear. And now, my son, as a bear usually travels up 
wind, even a monias of a white man could surmise which way 
the wind was blowing when the track was made. And always 
remember, my son, that only fools laugh at common sense. 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 113 

But don't get discouraged, keep on trying hard to learn, and 
then perhaps some day, if you hve long enough, you may be- 
come almost as wise as an ordinary Indian." 

The perfect season for hunting the black bear, and in fact aU 
other fur-bearing animals, is between the coming of the snow 
in late autumn and the going of the snow in early spring, for 
during that intervening season the coat is in its prime; but as 
the bear spends much of the winter in hibernation, the hunter 
must make the best of his two short opportunities ; that is, un- 
less he already knows where the bear will "den up," and is 
counting on kilhng him in his o-wazhe — or as the white hunters 
and traders call it "wash" — his den. His wash may consist 
of a hollow tree or a hollow log, a cave, or any suitable shelter 
formed by an uprooted tree. 

The finest wash I ever saw was in the woods of Quebec, where, 
many years ago, three birch saphngs had taken root in a huge, 
hollow pine stump, and where, as time passed, the stump, 
gradually decaying, had allowed the roots of the fast-growing 
birches to penetrate through the cracks in the stump to the 
ground. The roots eventually formed the rafters of a moss- 
and rotten-wood chinked, water-tight roof to the httle cavern 
in which the old pine stump had once stood and where two 
winters ago slept a bear. There was but a single entrance 
between two of the now massive birch roots, and it must have 
proved a tight squeeze when its tenant last entered. The den 
was shown to me by a hunter who the spring before had hap- 
pened that way. While pausing to hsten to some distant 
sound, he had heard a stranger one within ten feet of where he 
stood. He had heard deep breathing and turning to look down 
at the roots of the birches, he had discovered a full-grown 
black bear lying there with its head protruding out of the den. 
The head was turned toward him and the eyes were Gxed 
upon him with a friendly expression. Without moving a 
single step the hunter raised his rifle and fired, instantly killing 



114 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

the bear that lay motionless scarcely beyond the muzzle of his 
gun. 

THE TRUTH ABOUT BEARS 

The black bear's coat is all of a glossy black, save just the 
muzzle, which is light brown. In weight the black bear runs 
from two hundred to five hundred pounds. Though he is 
found throughout the Great Northern Forest, he is a com- 
parative stay-at-home, for he seldom roams, even in summer 
time, more than ten miles from his den, where, if undisturbed, 
he goes into the same winter quarters, year after year. Con- 
sequently, his paths are often clearly defined and well-beaten, 
for he has the habit of treading repeatedly in his old tracks, 
and occasionally he blazes his trail by clawing and biting, as 
high as he can reach, a neighbouring tree. There, too, he fre- 
quently leaves other signs — as a dog does at a post. Dog-hke, 
also, other bears that happen along manifest pleasure or rage 
according to whether the sign has been left by friend or foe. 
The mating season is in June, though the female rarely bears 
young except every second year. The young are born in 
January while the mother is hibernating; and the cubs, usually 
two in number, are at birth very small, weighing only about ten 
ounces. The she-bear makes a good mother, for though she 
shows great affection for her babies, she nevertheless repri- 
mands them, and cuffs them as well, whenever they misbehave 
or fail to comply with her wishes. The cubs are easily tamed, 
and being natural httle romps, they soon become proficient 
wrestlers and boxers, and in latter years, show so much agility 
in the manly art that they strike and parry with amazing 
power, speed, and skill. When hurt, however, the cubs whimper 
and cry just like children, and if the httle tots are badly 
wounded, the distress of the mother is pitiful to see, for she 
moans and sheds tears just as any tender-hearted human 
mother would. Bear-cubs are droU little mischiefs. Not only 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 115 

do they, when tamed, frequently get into trouble through the 
pranks they play, but they like to imitate at any risk to them- 
selves the doings of others. As the following example shows: 

Years ago, near Fort Pelly, on the Assiniboine River, an 
old Indian killed a she-bear that was followed by two cubs. 
Though he skinned and cut up the carcass of the mother, he did 
not touch the whimpering babes, and on going to camp, he sent 
his wife out with a horse to bring in the meat. When the 
Indian woman arrived at the spot, she found the two cubs 
cuddled up against the dressed meat of their mother, and 
crying as if their poor hearts would break. Their affectionate 
behaviour so touched the motherly heart of the old woman 
that, after loading the meat aboard the iravois — a framework 
of poles stretched out behind the horse — she picked up the 
sobbing children and, wrapping them in a blanket to keep them 
from falling off the iravois, bestrode her horse, and brought 
them whimpering into camp. 

For some time she kept them tethered beside her lodge where 
she took good care of them, but when they grew larger and 
seemed well behaved, she released them and allowed them to 
run and play with the dogs around camp. In the fall it was 
her habit to take a hand-net and go down to the river to fish. 
Standing upon a rock and every once in a while casting in her 
net, she would land a fish on the bank. For several days the 
cubs watched her with interest, and then one day, it seems, 
they decided they ought to try and help their foster-mother; 
so wading in on their hind legs till the water covered their Kttle 
round tummies, they would stand perfectly still until a fish 
would swim near. Then they would make a violent lunge for 
it, and striking hghtning-like blows with their paws, they, too, 
would land a fish upon the bank. Over and over they repeated 
the manoeuvre, with evident excitement and pleasure. At 
last, every time the old woman picked up her net to go fishing, 
these two went along and helped her with her work. So fond 



116 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of the sport did they become that, presently, they didn't even 
wait for her to accompany them, but scurried down to the river 
by themselves and would often have a day's fishing caught and 
ready for her before she had put in her appearance. 

Rut a few months later, when the cubs had grown still larger 
and stronger, they became so boisterous and mischievous that 
they not only handled the dogs too roughly, but when the old 
Indian and his wife left camp at any time, they went on the 
rampage: chasing the dogs about, ransacking the larder, turn- 
ing the camp topsy-turvy, and scattering everything in con- 
fusion. So the old couple decided that it was now high time 
to put their skins upon the skin-stretcher in readiness to sell 
to the fur-trader. 

The black bear is a good swimmer and an excellent tree 
climber, and the speed with which he can rush up a hillside is 
surprising. His diet is a varied one, for he is always ready to 
eat vegetables, roots, berries, insects, nuts, fish, eggs, meat, 
fruit, and of course sugar or honey ; furthermore, he is a killer 
of small game — when he is extra-hungry. The black bear has 
been given so bad a name by uninformed writers and dishonest 
story-tellers that most people dread to meet him in the woods; 
whereas, in truth he is usually more frightened at meeting 
human beings than they are of meeting him — for man is always 
his greatest and most dangerous enemy. Though I have seen 
many bears in the bush — seventeen on one trip — they never 
caused me any anxiety, and at once took flight. Rut on one of 
two rare occasions they did not run, perhaps because they were 
three in number and all full-grown. 

It happened up on the borderhne of Alaska. I was walking 
alone through the mountains on my way to Stewart, and wish- 
ing to cross the Marmot River, I took advantage of a great, 
permanent snowsHde that had been annually added to by 
avalanches from the snow-capped glaciers. The snowshde 
not only completely blocked the canon, but on either side it 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 117 

reached many hundreds of feet up the almost perpendicular 
mountains, yet in the middle, where it bridged the river, it 
was no more than two hundred feet high, though it was about 
two thousand feet in width. Year in and year out that great 
snow-bridge spanned the httle river, and now when I wanted 
to make use of it, I had no sooner started over than I dis- 
covered three bears with the same intention. They, too, had 
just come out of the woods, and were only forty paces from me 
— as I afterward measured. We were all going in the same 
direction, and though we were exactly opposite one another and 
all walking in a parallel hne, no one ran, and for two thousand 
feet or more, without stick or stone between us, we had a good 
opportunity to study each other. As usual, I was armed — as 
I always take care to be — with a penknife and a pocket hand- 
kerchief. 

Occasionally one reads in the daily press shocking stories 
of the ferocity of bears. What a pity that the truth of these 
stories cannot always be run to earth! Billy Le Heup, ^a 
prospector and guide of northern Ontario, once having occasion 
to call for his mail in a little backwoods settlement, opened a 
newspaper and was shocked to learn that a most harrowing 
affliction had befallen an old friend of his, by name — ^But I'm 
sorry I have forgotten it, so let us call him Jones. The paper 
reported that while several of Jones's children were out berry- 
picking, a great, black bear had attacked them, and killing the 
youngest, a little girl, had devoured her entirely, save only one 
tiny fragment; for when the rescue party went in search of 
the poor httle child they found nothing but her blood-stained 
right hand. Le Heup was so overcome with sorrow and so 
filled with indignation that he then and there determined to 
get together a few trapper friends of his and at once start by 
canoe for the scene of the tragedy, only a few miles away; there 
to condole with the poor father, trail the huge brute and wreak 
vengeance upon the child-eating monster. So Bill, with several 



118 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of the best bear-hunters in that region, all well armed, set out 
in haste for the Jones's clearing. When they arrived, Jones 
was splitting wood outside his shack. The sorrowing trappers, 
with downcast eyes, moved slowly toward the bereaved father, 
and Le Heup, appointed spokesman, offered their condolences 
on the terrible death of his favourite child. Jones was com- 
pletely dmnbfounded. When it was explained to him what a 
dreadful thing had happened to his child, he swore he had no 
idea a bear had ever eaten any one of his children; but he was 
willing to put their story to the proof, so as he had a lot of 
children, he called them all out of the house to check them over. 
To the joyful surprise of the visitors, there among them was 
little Eva — supposed to be eaten, and she even retained her 
right hand. Thus another newspaper libel upon the poor old 
black bear — the buffoon of the forest — was shown to be devoid 
of truth; yet that story was published in the Toronto papers, 
and, no doubt, was copied all over the United States. 

But though the black bear is a shy, playful brute, usually 
ready for flight if danger approaches, the tyro should remember 
that if wounded or cornered he will readily fight. Further- 
more, if one is unlucky enough to get between a bear cub and 
its mother, and if the cub should cry out as though you were 
giving it pain, the mother will attack you as readily as any 
mother would — be she chicken, moose, or woman. 

THE WAYS OF THE BEAVER 

A few days later Oo-koo-hoo and Amik set out to hunt beav- 
ers — those wonderful amphibious animals of the Northland 
that display more intelligence, perseverance, prudence, and 
morality than many a highly civilized human being. 

In appearance the beaver somewhat resembles a greatly 
magnified muskrat, save that the beaver's hciirless, scaly tail 
is very broad and flat. The coat of the beaver is brown, and 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 119 

the darker the colour the higher the price it brings. An adult 
beaver may measure from thirty-five to forty-five inches in 
length, and weigh anywhere from thirty to sixty pounds. The 
beaver's home is usually in the form of an island house, built 
in the waters of a small lake or slowly rmniing stream, to af- 
ford protection from prowling enemies, much in the same way 
that the old feudal lords surrounded the ramparts of their 
castles with broad moats and flooded the intervening space with 
a deep canal of water, in order to check the advance of enemy 
raiders. The surrounding shores of the beaver's castle are 
nearly always wooded with poplars, as it is upon the bark 
of that tree that the beaver depends most for his food; though 
at times, other hardwoods contribute to his feast as well as 
water-lily roots and other vegetation. 

The beaver's island-like lodge is a dome-shaped structure that 
rises from four to seven feet above the water, and measures 
from ten to thirty feet in diameter on the water-hne. It is 
composed mostly of barkless sticks and poles from one to four 
inches in diameter, although at times much heavier material 
is used; and it is tightly chinked with stones and mud and 
matted vegetation. Frequently, I have watched the building 
of their lodges. A foundation of water-logged poles and sticks 
is laid upon the lake or river bottom, next mud and stones 
are added, then another lot of branches, thus the structure 
rises in a fairly solid mound until its dome-like top reaches the 
desired height above the water-line. Then the beavers tunnel 
their two runways into the centre of the mass from an under- 
water level on the outside to an over-water level on the inside 
of the mound. Next, by gnawing away the inside sticks and 
excavating the inner mass, the inside chamber is formed, 
measuring anywhere from four to fourteen feet in width, and 
a httle over two feet in height, with its waUs finished fairly 
smooth. Furthermore, the chamber is provided with two floors 
each of which covers about half the room. While the lower 



120 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

floor rises from three to six inches above the water level, the 
upper floor rises from four to eight inches above the lower floor. 
The tunnels open in the lower floor and it is the lower floor or 
level that is used as a drying place and a dining room. The 
upper level, covered with a mattress of shredded wood, grass, 
or moss, forms the living and sleeping half of the chamber. 
Though in winter time most of their meals are eaten in the 
house, the green, bark-covered sticks being brought into the 
chamber through the straightest tunnel, the house is kept 
quite clean and free of all rubbish or filth. In fact, beavers are 
better housekeepers than some human beings I have known. 

A certain amount of ventilation is derived from a few httle 
chinks in the apex of the roof. During the first freezing nights 
of late faU the beavers plaster the above-water dome of their 
house with mud which they carry up between their forelegs 
and chin from the lake bottom, and placing it upon the roof 
of their house, spread it about in a thick coating, not with their 
tails, but with their forefeet, where it soon freezes into so 
sohd a mass that it protects the inmates from the attacks of 
both the severest winter weather and the most savage of four- 
footed enemies. So strong indeed does the roof then become 
that even a moose could stand upon it without it giving way. 
While some writers doubt that beavers plaster the outside of 
their house with mud, I wish to add that I have not only ex- 
amined their houses before and after the plastering was done, 
but on several moonhght nights I have actuaUy sat within forty 
feet of them and watched them do it. 

The winter supply of food, being mostly poplar bark, is 
derived from the branches of green trees which the beavers cut 
down in the autumn for that very purpose. While engaged in 
gnawing down trees the beavers usuaUy work in pairs — one 
cutting while the other rests and also acts as a sentinel to give 
warning in case an enemy approaches. While cutting down 
trees they stand or sit in an upright position upon their hind 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 121 

legs and are firmly supported by the tripod formed by the 
spreading out of their hind feet and tail. They generally 
choose trees nearest the water on an inclined bank, and usually 
leaning toward the stream; and while they show no particular 
skill in felhng trees in a certain position, they do display great 
perseverance, for if it happens, as it sometimes does, that a tree 
in its descent is checked and eventually held up by its neigh- 
bours, the beavers will cut the trunk for the second time, and 
in some cases even for the third time, in order to bring it down. 

At night I have frequently sat by the hour at a time, with 
the brush-screened bow of my canoe within ten feet of a party 
of beavers, while they were busily engaged in cutting the 
branches off a tree that they had felled into the water the 
previous evening. They work quickly, too, for some mornings 
I have paddled past a big tree lying in the water, which they 
had dropped the night before and — on returning next day — 
have found all the branches removed, though some of them 
would have measured five inches in diameter. But watching 
beavers work at night is not only interesting, it is easy to do, 
and I have frequently taken both women and children to share 
in the sport. Sometimes, right in the heart of the wilderness, 
I have placed children within fifteen feet of beavers while they 
were engaged in cutting up a tree. 

When branches measure from one to three inches in diameter 
they are usually cut in lengths of from five to ten feet, and the 
thicker the branch the shorter they cut the lengths. If the 
cutting is done on land, the butt of the long thinner length is 
seized by the beaver's teeth and with the weight resting upon 
the animal's back, is dragged along the ground — over a spe- 
cially cleared road — and eventually deposited in the water. The 
shorter lengths, sometimes no longer than a couple of feet, but 
measuring perhaps six or eight inches in diameter, are rolled 
along the ground by the beaver pushing the log with the fore- 
feet or shoulder. When the wood is placed in the water, the 



122 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

beaver propels it to its under- water storage place near its lodge, 
where — the wood being green and heavy — it is easily secured 
from floating up and away, by placing a little mud over one end 
or by interlocking the stick with the rest of the pile. The 
green wood, however, soon becomes waterlogged and gives no 
further trouble. Thus, when the lake or river is frozen over, 
the beaver — for it does not hibernate — may live in comfort 
all winter long in its weather-proof lodge with plenty of food 
stored beneath the ice and just beyond the watery doorway of 
its home. 

HUNTING THE BEAVER 

The hunters, arriving at a small lake that lay about three 
miles to the northwest of Bear Lake, crossed it, and turning up 
a winding creek, followed the little river until they came to a 
beaver dam which caused the stream to expand into another 
httle lake that flooded far beyond its old water-line. In it 
was to be seen three beaver lodges. 

Oo-koo-hoo said the scene was somewhat altered since he had 
visited it four years before, as the dam had been increased both 
in height and length, and the pond, increasing, too, had reached 
out close to many a tree that formerly stood some distance from 
the water. It was a beautiful little mere containing a few 
spruce-crowned islands, and surrounded by thickly wooded 
hills whose bases were well fringed with poplcirs, birches, wil- 
lows, £ind alders — an ideal home for beaver. Among the little 
islands stood three snow-capped beaver lodges. Here and 
there wide-spreading, wind-packed carpets of snow covered 
the ice, while in between big stretches of clear, glassy ice, 
acting as skyhghts, ht up the beavers' submarine gardens 
around their ice-locked homes. 

The hunters were accompanied by three of their dogs, and 
before they had time to decide where they should first begin 
work, the dogs began barking at a point between the west lodge 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 123 

and the bank; so they went over to investigate. Evidently 
the dogs had spied a beaver, for now, though none was in sight, 
the canines were rushing back and forth in great excitement 
over a fairly deep submarine runway or clear passageway, 
through the shallow, rush-matted water under the ice. 

Chopping a hole through the ice with his axe, Oo-koo-hoo 
drove down a couple of crossed poles to block the passageway, 
and Amik, finding other runways, did likewise at other places. 
Several of the passageways led to the bank, where, Oo-koo-hoo 
said, they had what is called "bank lodges" — natural cavities 
in the river bank to which the beavers had counted on resorting 
in case their house was raided. In other places, where the snow 
obscured the view, the Indians knocked on the ice with the 
backs of their axes, to find and follow the hoUow-sounding ice 
that told of runways below, that other stakes might be driven 
down. The rapping sound, however, instead of driving the 
beavers out of their lodge, had a tendency to make them remain 
at home, for as Oo-koo-hoo explained, cutting ice and working 
around their homes does not always frighten the beavers. 

Securing two stouter poles, the hunters now chopped the 
butts into wedge-shaped chisels, with which they proposed 
to break open the beavers' lodge. Work was begun about a 
foot above the level of the snow on the south side, as they 
explained that the lodge would not only be thinner on that side, 
but that the sun would make it slightly softer, too — and before 
much headway was made the dogs, all alert, discovered that 
several of the beavers had rushed out of their house, but finding 
the passageways blocked had returned home. 

Now, strange to say, as soon as the side of the house was 
broken open and daylight let in, the beavers, becoming curious 
over the inflowing light that dazzled their eyes, actually came 
toward the newly made hole to investigate. Then Oo-koo-hoo, 
with the aid of a crooked stick, suddenly jerked one of the un- 
suspecting animals out of the hole and Amik knocked it on the 



124 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

head. Thus they secured four large ones, but left a number 
of smaller ones unharmed, as Oo-koo-hoo never made a practice 
of taking a whole family. 

In that house the portion of the chamber used for sleeping 
quarters was covered with a thick mattress of dry "snctke- 
grass," and the whole interior was remarkably clean. After 
blocking and patching up the hole and covering the place with 
snow, the hunters threw water over it until it froze into a solid 
mass, then they removed the stakes from the runways and 
left the rest of the beavers in peace. Loading their catch upon 
their toboggans, all set out for home. 

BEAVER DAMS AND CANALS 

Besides erecting their remarkably strong houses there are 
two other ways in which the beavers display wonderful skill: 
in the building of their dams and in the excavating of their 
canals. Their dams are built for the purpose of retarding, rais- 
ing, and storing water, in order — in summer time — to circum- 
vent their enemies by placing a well-watered moat between 
their foe and their castle; also to flood a wider area so that 
the far-reaching waters of their pond may lap close to the roots 
of many otherwise inaccessible trees and thus enable them to 
fell and float them to their lodge; and — in winter time — to raise 
the water high enough to secure their pond from freezing sohd 
and imprisoning them in their lodges where they would starve 
to death, or if they gnawed their way to freedom, the intense 
cold of mid-winter would freeze their hairless tails and cause 
their death ; furthermore, should they escape from the weather, 
they would be at the mercy of aU their enemies and would not 
long survive. 

A dam, in the begiiming, is usuaUy erected in a small way, 
just to raise and expand the waters of some small creek or even 
those of a spring; then, as the years go by, it is constantly added 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 125 

to, to increase the depth and expansion of the pond, and thus 
the dam grows from a small one of a few yards in length to a 
big one of several hundred feet — sometimes to even four or five 
hundred feet in length — that may bank up the water four or 
five feet above the stream just outside the dam, and turn the 
pond into a great reservoir covering hundreds of acres of land. 

The dam is more often built of branches laid parallel to the 
current with their butts pointing up stream, and weighted 
down with mud and stones; thus layer after layer is added until 
the structure rises to the desired height and strength. Some 
dams contain hundreds of tons of material. They are usually 
built upon a solid bottom, not of rock — though big, stationary 
boulders often are included in the construction for the extra 
support they furnish. When thus used, boulders often cause 
the beavers to divert the hne of the dam out of its usual graceful 
and scientific curve that well withstands the pressure from 
even a large body of water. 

The beavers excavate canals — sometimes hundreds of feet 
in length — to enable them to reach more easily and float home 
the wood they have cut from freshly felled trees lying far 
beyond the reaches of their pond. The canals measure from 
two to three feet in width and a foot to a foot and a half in 
depth, and are not only surprisingly clean-cut and straight 
but occasionally they are even provided with locks, or rather 
httle dams, to raise the water from one level to another — 
generally about a foot at a time — to off'set the disadvantage of 
the wood lying on higher and more distant ground than is 
reached by the waters of the residential pond. Sometimes 
their canals are fed by springs, but more often by the drainage 
of rainwater. The building of many of their dams and canals 
displays remarkable skill and a fine sense of engineering, to- 
gether with a spirit of perseverance that is astomiding. Is it 
any wonder that the Indians say that the beavers were once 
human beings, whom, for the punishment of some miscon- 



126 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

duct, The Master of Life condemned to get down and grovel 
upon the ground as four-footed animals for the rest of their 
days. 

"Yes, my son," rephed Oo-koo-hoo, when we were discussing 
beavers, "they are a very clever and a very wise people, and it 
would be better for us if we emulated them more than we do, 
for as you know, they believe in not talking but in working and 
making good use of the brains The Master of Life has given 
them, and that is the only way to be really happy in this world. 
Besides, he is always true to his wife — a fine example to men — 
furthermore, he is a good provider who looks after his children, 
and is a decent, clean-hving fellow who never goes out of his 
way to quarrel with any one, but just minds his own business 
and cuts wood." 

Could any nation choose a creature more fit for a national 
emblem? I beheve not. For would any wise man compare 
a useless, screeching eagle, or a useless, roaring lion — each a 
creature of prey — to a silent, hard-working, and useful beaver 
who remains true to his wife eJI his life, who builds a comfortable 
home for his children, provides them well with food and teaches 
them . . . not how to kill other creatures . . . but 
how to work, . . . how to construct strong, comfortable 
houses, how to build dams to protect, not only their children, 
but their homes, too, how to chop down trees for food, how to dig 
canals to float the food home, how to store it for the winter, how 
to keep the home clean and in good order, how to mind their 
own business and never seek a quarrel, and, at the same time, 
how to defend themselves desperately if an enemy attacks 
them. 

For his size, the beaver is powerful, so powerful, indeed, that 
Oo-koo-hoo said: "Remember, my son, the beaver is a very 
strong animal, he can drag a man after him, and the only way 
for a hunter to hold him — if he is caught in a trap — is to lift 
him off his feet." 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 127 

Notwithstanding his great strength, however, he is a peace- 
loving chap, but when a just occasion arises, you ought to see 
him fight ! 

BEAVER FIGHTS WOLVERINE 

One spring while hunting along a river, some years ago, 
Oo-koo-hoo discovered a beaver at work upon the bank, and 
wishing to observe him for a while, kept perfectly still. The 
beaver was cutting poplar sticks to take them through a hole 
in the ice to the under-water entrance of his near-by home for 
his family to feed upon. But presently Oo-koo-hoo discovered 
another moving object; it was a wolverine, and it was stalking 
the beaver. When it drew near enough to the unsuspecting 
worker, it made a sudden spring and landed upon his back. 
A desperate fight ensued. The wolverine was trying to cut the 
spinal cord at the back of the beaver's neck; but the short, stout 
neck caused trouble, and before the wolverine had managed it, 
the beaver, realizing that the only chance for life was to make 
for the water-hole, lunged toward it, and with the wolverine 
still on his back, dived in. On being submerged, the wolverine 
let go and swam aroimd and around in an effort to get out; but 
the beaver, now in his element, took advantage of the fact, and 
rising beneath the foe, leaped at it, and with one bite of his 
powerful, chisel-like teeth, gripped it by the throat, then let 
go and sank to watch it bleed to death. A httle later, the 
beaver had the satisfaction of seeing old Oo-koo-hoo walk off 
with the wolverine's skin. 

No . . . beavers do not believe in divorce . . . 
and on their wedding day — usually in February — they promise 
to be true to each other for the rest of their fives, and, more- 
over, unfike many human beings, they keep their promise. 
About three months later the husband, seeing his wife is getting 
ready to welcome new relations, leaves his comfortable home 
just to be out of the way, and takes up new quarters in a hole 



128 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

in the river bank. While he is there the children — any number 
from one to six — arrive, and then can be heard much gentle 
whimpering, just as though human babies were now Hving in 
the old homestead. 

When the beaver children grow older they romp in the water 
much as puppies do on land. If danger approaches, the first 
beaver to sense it slaps the surface of the water with his broad, 
powerful tail, making a noise that resounds through the forest 
as though a strong man had struck the water a violent blow with 
the broad side of a paddle blade. Instantly the first beaver's 
nearest companion signals the danger to others by doing the 
same; then a second later they plunge out of sight in the water 
and leave behind nothing but a great sound — as though an 
elephant had fallen in. 

When married and settled down, the beaver is very domestic 
— a great stay-at-home — but when seeking a mate, he travels 
far and wide, and leaves here and there along the shore scent 
signals, in the hope of more easily attracting and winning a 
bride. Beavers are full grown at three years of age, and by that 
time they have learned how to erect houses, build dams, dig 
canals, chop down trees, cut up wood, float it home and store 
it for the winter, and by that time too, they have, no doubt, 
learned that man is their worst enemy, though the wolverine, 
wolf, otter, lynx, and fisher are ever ready to pounce upon them 
whenever a chance offers. 

USEFULNESS OF BEAVER 

But I had almost forgotten that I owed the reader an ex- 
planation when I said that the beaver was a very useful crea- 
ture. I was not thinking of the value of his fur, because that 
is as nothing compared to the great service he has been render- 
ing mankind, not only to-day, but for endless generations. 
How? By the great work he has been doing during the past 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 129 

hundreds and thousands of years. How? By going into rocky, 
useless valleys and building the dams that checked the rushing 
rivers that were constantly robbing much rich soil from the 
surrounding country and carrying it down and out to sea. And 
his dams, moreover, not only held up those treacherous highway- 
men, but took the loot from them and let it settle in the valleys, 
where, as years rolled on, it grew and grew into endless great 
expansions of level meadow lands that now afford much of the 
most fertile farming soil to be found in North America; and 
thus the great industry of those silent workers, who lived ages 
and ages ago, is even to-day benefiting mankind. And thus, 
too, that great work is being steadily carried on by the Hving 
beavers of to-day. Could any country in the world have chosen 
a more inspiring creature than Canada has chosen for her 
national symbol? 

When, on his fall and spring expeditions, Oo-koo-hoo was 
hunting beavers with the waters free of ice, he placed steel traps 
in their runways, either just below the surface of the water, or 
on the bank; and the only bait he used in both cases was the 
rubbing of castormn on near-by bushes. Also, he built dead- 
falls much like those he built for bear, but of course much 
smaller; and again the bait was castorum, but this time it was 
rubbed on a bit of rabbit skin which was then attached to the 
bait stick of the deadfall. The deadfalls he built for beavers 
were nearly always made of dead tamarack — never of green 
poplar — otherwise the beavers would have pulled them to 
pieces for the sake of the wood. 

Further, Oo-koo-hoo told me that in the spring he sometimes 
broke open beaver dams and set traps near the breaks in order 
to catch the beavers when they came to repair the damage. 
Such a mode of trapping was, he said, equally successful 
whether or not there was ice upon the water. He also told me 
that he had seen other Indians catch beaver with a net made of 
No. 10 twine, with a three-and-a-half-inch mesh, but that, 



130 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

though the method worked rather well, he had never tried it. 
The way of all others, that he liked best, was to hunt them 
by calling, and the best time for that was during the mornings 
and evenings of the rutting season. 

Later in the year, when the ice is gone, and the beaver is 
swimming, say a foot under water, the hunter can easily follow 
his course from the appearance of the surface. The same 
applies to the muskrat, mink, and otter. Muskrats and beav- 
ers swim much ahke, as they are usually going in search of 
roots, and, knowing exactly where to find them, they swim 
straight; but minks and otters swim a zig-zag course for the 
reason that they are always looking for fish and therefore are 
constantly turning their heads about; and that rule applies 
whether their heads are above or below the surface. 

When a beaver — providing he has not slapped the water with 
his tail — or an otter dives, an observant hunter can judge fairly 
well as to where the animal is heading for, by simply noting the 
twist of the tail, a point that helps the hunter to gauge the 
place where it may rise. The same applies to whales when they 
sound, though I found — while whale hunting — that few whalers 
realized it, and fewer still took advantage of it, for much time 
was lost while waiting for the whale to rise before the boat could 
be headed in the right direction. But then the average Indian 
is much more observant than the average white man. 

If a beaver is caught in a steel trap, he will do his utmost 
to plunge into water and remain there even though he should 
drown, yet his house may not be in that river or pond; but 
if he is wounded, he will either try to reach his house or take to 
the woods. 

When in pursuit of beavers it is advisable to watch for them 
on moonlight nights about eight or nine o'clock, and it is best 
to be in a canoe, as then there is less danger of the beaver sink- 
ing before he can be removed from the water. The hunter, 
while waiting for a shot, makes a noise with the handle of his 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 131 

knife against a stick in imitation of a beaver cutting wood — 
a sound somewhat similar to that of the boring of a large auger. 
It is astonishing how far, on a still night, beavers will hear such 
a sound and come to help their friends at work. When Oo-koo- 
hoo shot beaver he charged his gun with four slugs and fired for 
the head, as he explained that ordinary shot was too fine and 
scattered too much, while a single ball was too large. 

OO-KOO-HOO SHOOTS A BEAR 

The following morning Oo-koo-hoo and I set out to go the 
round of the northern trapping trail which for some distance 
followed the valley of Beaver River, upon the bank of which 
traps, snares, and deadfalls for bears were set. Along that 
section of the river there were also traps set for otters, beavers, 
and muskrats; but the hunting of these amphibious animals 
was pursued with more diligence in the spring than in the 
winter. Though we hauled a hunting toboggan, the snow 
was not yet deep enough for snowshoes, but what a feast 
of reading the forest afforded us ! What tragedies were written 
in the snow! Here we followed a mink's track as it skirted the 
river bank that wound in and out among the trees, showing that 
the mink had leaped here, crouched there, or had been scratch- 
ing beyond in the snow. Evidently it was in search of food. 
Presently we noticed another track, that of an ermine. The 
two trails were converging. Now, apparently, the mink had 
seen its enemy, and, therefore, in order to get past the ermine 
and escape trouble, it had increased its speed. At this point 
the ermine had spied it and had redoubled its speed. Now 
they had both bounded along with all their might. But as 
ill-fate would have it, they had met. A violent struggle had 
ensued. Blood was spattered upon the snow. From the 
battle-ground only one trail led away. It was that of the 
ermine. But though the snow was marked by the footprints 



132 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of only one animal, the trail of two tails plainly showed. It 
was evident that the ermine had seized its victim by the throat 
and throwing it over its back, had carried it away. Many 
other tracks of beasts and birds were printed upon the snow and 
told in vivid detail stories of hfe in the winter wilderness. 

Reaver River was now frozen firmly enough to bear a man, 
except in a few places where rapid water kept the ice thin or 
left the stream open; and as we tramped along we examined 
a number of traps, from two of which we took an otter and a 
beaver. Rut the bear and the wolf traps remained undisturbed 
though we saw a number of wolf tracks near at hand. Turning 
westward we ascended a slope and came suddenly upon the 
fresh track of a bear. It was fairly large, and was travelling 
slowly; merely sauntering along as though looking for a den 
in which to pass the winter. 

At once Oo-koo-hoo was all alert. CarefuUy re-charging his 
gun with ball, and seeing that his knife and axe were at hand, 
he left the toboggan behind, lest it make a noise among the 
trees and alarm the quarry. In less than a quarter of a mile, 
however, we came upon a sign that the bear had passed but a 
few minutes before. The hunter paused to suggest that it would 
better his approach if I were to follow a httle farther in the 
rear; then he noiselessly continued his pursuit. Slowly he 
moved forward, cautiously avoiding the snapping of a twig or 
the scraping of underbrush. After peering through the 
shrubbery ahead or halting a moment to reexamine the track, 
he would move on again, but with scarcely any perceptible 
motion of the upper part of his body. When in doubt, he 
would stand stock-still and try by sight or hearing to get news 
of the bear. Luckily, there was no wind, so it made little differ- 
ence which way we turned in following the trail. Rut just 
then there happened a disturbing and irritating thing, for a 
whiskey jack — Canada Jay — took to following us, and chirping 
about it, too. Crossing a rocky patch on the hillside, the bear 




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00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 133 

came into view as it circled a little in order to descend. Pres- 
ently it left the shadow of the forest and emerging into sun- 
light on a snow-covered ledge, tm-ned its head as though it had 
heard a sound in the rear. It was Oo-koo-hoo speaking: 

" Turn your head away, my brother . . ." but the report 
of his gun cut short his sentence, and the bear, leaping forward, 
disappeared among the growth below. Re-loading his gun, 
the hunter slowly followed, more cautiously than ever, for he 
saw from the blood upon the snow that the beast was wounded 
and, therefore, dangerous. As he went he covered every likely 
place with his gun, lest the bear should be lurking there and 
rush at him. At last I saw him pause much longer than usual, 
then move forward again. Finally he turned, and in a satisfied 
tone exclaimed: "It's dead!" 

The ball had struck just behind the left shoulder and had 
entered the heart; and the hunter explained that when he saw 
his best chance, he spoke to the bear to make it pause in order 
to better his aim. 

"And what did you say to him.^" 

"My son, I said: 'Turn your eyes away, my brother, for I 
am about to kiU you.' I never care to fire at a bear without 
first teUing him how sorry I am that I need his coat." 

Then the skinning began, and by noon we had it finished. 
Loading the head and part of the meat on the sled, I hauled it, 
while the hunter rolled up the heavy pelt and packed it upon 
his back with the aid of a tump-line. Taking our loads back to 
the river and caching them there, we continued along the 
trapping trail. 

A DEADFALL FOR BEAR 

Soon we came to one of the best deadfalls I had ever seen. 
It was set for bear, and was of the "log-house" kind, with 
walls nearly six feet high, and a base that was eight feet long 
by five feet wide in front, while only two feet in width in the 



134 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

rear. It was built in conjunction with two standing trees that 
formed the two corner posts retaining the huge drop-log. The 
front of the big trap was left quite open, save for the drop-log 
that crossed it obliquely. While the thin end of the log was 
staked to the ground, the thick end, loaded with a platform 
weighted with stones, projected beyond the far side of the trap 
at a height of about five feet from the ground. It was ready 
to fall and crush any unlucky creature that might venture 
in and touch the bait-trigger. WTiatever the drop-log might 
fall upon, it would hold as though in a vise, and if the bear 
were not already dead when the hunter should arrive, he would 
take care to shoot the animal in the head before removing the 
drop-log. 

Snares are also set for bears, and the best of them are made 
of twenty strands of babiche twisted into the form of a 
rope. The loop is set about eighteen inches in diameter, and is 
attached to either a spring-pole or a tossing-pole — or, more 
correctly speaking, a tree sufficiently large to raise and support 
the weight of the bear. Sometimes a guiding-pole is used in 
connection with a snare. One end is planted in the ground in 
the centre of the path and the other, slanting up toward the 
snare, is used as a guide toward the loop, since a bear walking 
forward would straddle the pole. In a further effort to getting 
the animal's head in the right place, the hunter smears the 
upper end of the pole with syrup. 

Another wooden trap is that of the stump and wedge. It 
is made by chopping down a tree of not less than half a foot in 
diameter, so that a stump is left about six feet high. The 
stump is then split, and a long, tapering wedge, well greased, is 
driven in, and upon it is smeared a coating of syrup or honey 
as a bait. The hear wiU not only try to lick off the bait, but in 
his eagerness to puU out the wedge and hck it, too, will spring 
the trap and find a paw caught between the closing stump. 
Also, the Indians sometimes use a stage from the top of which 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 135 

they shoot the bear at night while he passes on his runway; 
and to attract the bear they imitate the cry of a cub in distress. 
Steel traps, too, are set for bears. They are very strong with 
big double springs and weigh about twenty pounds. They, 
too, are set on the runway of the bears, and are carefully 
covered with leaves or moss. No bait is used on the trap, but 
syrup or honey is spread upon a near-by tree to induce the bear 
to step in the trap. 

MARASTY AND THE BEAR 

But all bear traps are dangerous to mankind and not in- 
frequently a man is caught in one. In 1899 a half-breed 
hunter by the name of Marasty, who lived near Green Lake, 
about 150 miles north of Prince Albert, went one late spring day 
to visit his traps, and in the course of his trip came upon one of 
his deadfalls set for bear, from which he noticed the bait had 
been removed, although the trap had not been sprung. Before 
rebaiting it, however, he built a fire to boil his tea-pail, and sat 
down to eat his lunch. 

After refreshment, Marasty, being a lazy man, decided to 
enter the trap from in front, instead of first opening up the 
rear and entering from that quarter, as he should have done. 
He got along all right until he started to back out, when in 
some way he jarred the trigger, and, just as he was all free of 
the ground-log save his right arm, down came the ponderous 
drop-log with its additional weight of platform and stones. It 
caught him just above the elbow, crushed his arm flat, and 
held him a prisoner in excruciating pain. The poor wretch 
nearly swooned. Later, he thought of his knife. He would 
try to cut the log in two and thus free himself. He knew that, 
handicapped as he was, though he worked feverishly and 
incessantly, the task would demand many hours of furious toil. 

After a while the wind arose and re-kindled his dying fire 



136 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

into life. The sparks flew up and the flames ran over the dry 
moss toward him. Now there was added the dread of being 
bm-nt ahve. But he worked his feet violently and succeeded 
in roughening the ground sufficiently to turn the fire so that 
it passed on either side of him, and though it continued beyond 
the wooden trap, eventually died down. 

Then he went on with his cutting, but night came on before 
he had dug into the log more than a few inches. Growing 
faint, he rested awhile, and later fell asleep. When he awoke, 
he discovered a fuU-grown black bear sitting upon its haunches 
watching him. He shouted to drive the beast away, but, 
strange to say, the noise did not frighten the bear, for several 
times it got up and attempted to reach the syrup on the trap. 
When the captive renewed his shouting and kicking, the bear 
merely stepped back, sat down, and persisted in maintaining 
its fearsome watch all night. Nevertheless, the half-breed was 
afraid to stop shouting, so he kept it up at intervals aU night 
long. When, however, dawn came, the bear went away. 

At sunrise Marasty renewed his efi'orts to escape, and though 
his hand was now blistered and sore, he worked for several 
hours. Then thirst attacked him; and he dug in the ground, 
but without avail, in the hope of finding moisture. Again he 
turned to the cutting of the log, but soon exhaustion weakened 
his exertions. Night came on again and with it came the 
bear; but this time he was glad to see the brute, for its presence 
made him feel less lonely and drove away despair. This time, 
too, the bear sat around in such a friendly way, that Marasty 
felt relieved enough to sing some hymns and do a httle pray- 
ing; but when he began to sing a second time, the big black 
beast lost patience, got up and walked away, much to the 
regret of the imprisoned hunter. 

In the morning the now almost lifeless Marasty heard in 
the distance the voice of his brother calling his name; but 
though he shouted wildly in answer, no response came, for the 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 137 

wind was blowing in the wrong direction, and defeated his 
attempt to benefit by the help that was so near. Later, the 
unhappy man swooned. 

About noon the brother, finding the suiFerer's trail, arrived 
upon the scene, removed the drop-log, picked up the uncon- 
scious man, and carrying him to his canoe, cut away the thwarts 
and laid him in. After a paddle of fifteen miles to the portage 
landing, he left the stricken wretch in the canoe, and ran four 
miles to get help. With other men and two horses he speedily 
returned, rigged up a stage swung between the horses, and lay- 
ing Marasty thereon, transported him through the bush to his 
home. 

In the meantime, an express had been despatched to Prince 
Albert to summon a doctor; but the old Indian women could 
not bear to wait so long for the coming of rehef, so filing a big 
knife into a fine-toothed saw, they cut away the bruised flesh 
and sawed off the broken bones. They made a clean amputa- 
tion which they dressed with a poultice made from well-boiled 
inner bark of juniper, and not only did no mortification set in, 
but the arm healed nicely; and when the doctor arrived ten 
days later, he examined the amputation carefully and said that 
there was nothing for him to do : the old women had done their 
work so well. Marasty quickly recovered, and next winter he 
was on the hunting trail again. 

HOW BEARS ARE HUNTED 

After spending three days upon the trapping trail we re- 
turned to camp; but because our toboggan was loaded with 
game, and also because we did not return by our outgoing route, 
the grandmother and the two boys set out to bring in the bear 
meat and the bear's head. During the feast that followed 
Oo-koo-hoo addressed the bear's head with superstitious awe 
and again begged it not to be offended or angry because it had 



138 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

been killed since they needed both its coat and its fat and flesh 
to help tide them over the winter. In this entreaty Amik 
did not join — perhaps because he was too civilized. After the 
meal, the skull was hung upon a branch of a pine that stood 
near the lodges. It reminded me that once I had seen at an 
old camping place eleven bear skulls upon a single branch; 
but the sight of bear skulls upon trees is not uncommon when 
one is travelhng through the Strong Woods Country. 

That night, when I was sitting beside Oo-koo-hoo, we began 
talking about bear hunting and he said: "My son, some day 
you, too, may want to become a great bear-hunter, and when 
you do go out to hunt alone, don't do as I do, but do as I say, 
for I am growing old and am sometimes careless about the way 
I approach game." Puffing away at his pipe, he presently 
continued: "In trailing bear, the hunter's method of approach, 
of course, depends entirely upon the information he has gained 
from the tracks he has discovered. If the hunter sees the 
bear without being seen, he will approach to within about 
twenty paces or even ten of the brute before he fires; being, 
however, always careful to keep some object between him and 
his quarry. And when he does fire, he should not wait to see 
the effect, but should immediately run aside for a distance of 
fifteen or twenty paces, as the first thing a bear does when it 
is shot is to bite the wound on account of the pain, next it tries 
to discover who hit it, and remembering from which direction 
the sound came, it looks up, and seeing the smoke, rushes for 
it. Then the hunter has his opportunity, for on seeing the 
beast pass broadside, he fires, and thus stands a good chance of 
hitting a vital spot. 

"At a critical moment a good hunter's movements are not 
only swift but always premeditated. Nor does he ever treat 
a bear with contempt : from first to last, he is always on guard. 
He never takes a chance. Even if the bear drops when the 
hunter fires, he will immediately re-load and advance very 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 139 

slowly lest the brute be feigning death. The hunter advances, 
with his gun cocked and in readiness, to within perhaps five 
paces, and then waits to see if his quarry is really dead. If the 
bear is not dead and sees that the hunter is off his guard, the 
chances are it will rush at him. But an experienced hunter is 
not easily fooled, for he knows that if an animal makes a 
choking sound in its throat, caused by internal bleeding, it is 
mortally wounded; but if it makes no such sound — watch 
out!" 

"My son, no animal is ever instantly killed, for there is 
always a gradual collapse, or more or less of a movement 
caused by the contraction of its muscles, before death actually 
comes; but when an animal feigns death, it is always in too 
much of a hurry about it, and drops instantly without a final 
struggle, or any hard breathing — that is the time when one 
should wait and be careful. 

"Then again, my son, if a wounded or cornered bear comes 
suddenly upon a hunter, the beast will not at once rush at him, 
grab him or bite him, but will instantly draw back, just as the 
hunter will do; then it will sit up upon its haunches for a 
moment, as though to think over the situation; that pause, 
slight as it is, gives the hunter a moment to uncover his gun, 
cock it, and aim, and fire it at the beast's mouth. In such a 
situation the hunter prefers to fire at its mouth, because if shot 
in the heart, the bear can still lunge at the hunter before it 
falls, but if struck in the mouth, the brute is dazed and stops 
to rub its face; meanwhile, the hunter has a chance to re-load 
and try for a shot behind the ear, as that is even more fatal than 
one in the heart. But if the bear happens to be in a tree, the 
hunter does not try for either the brain or the heart, because 
the former is usually out of aim, and the latter is protected by 
the trmik or limb of the tree; so he shoots at the small of the 
back for that will paralyze it and cause it to let go hold of the 
tree, and drop to the ground. The fall will leave very httle 



140 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

fight in it, or will finish it altogether. But if hit in the head or 
even in a paw, the chances are that the bear will jump; and 
then watch out, for it will either run or fight ! 

"In hunting bears, however, the hunter must remember that 
he should guard most against scent and sound betraying him, 
since a bear's sight is not very keen. If the bear happens to be 
feeding, the hunter may easily approach, provided that the wind 
is right and he keeps quiet; but if the bear hears the slightest 
sound or catches a single whiff of scent — away he goes! If, 
however, the hunter approaches in an open place and the bear, 
seeing him, sits up to get a better look, the hunter should 
immediately stand perfectly still, and wait thus until the bear 
again resumes feeding or moves away. Then the hunter rushes 
forward, but all the while watches keenly to see when it stops 
to look again; and at the first sign of that the hunter becomes 
rigid once more. Such tactics may be successful two or three 
times but rarely more, so then the hunter had best fire. Now, 
my son, when you go hunting you will know what to do, and if 
Amik would only pay attention to what I say, he, too, might 
become a better hunter, for I have had much experience in 
hunting both black and grizzly bears." 

NEYKIA AND HER LOVER 

As the weeks passed, the children devoted themselves to 
their winter play and spent most of their days in the open air. 
Tobogganing was their greatest sport. Often did they invite 
me to take part in this, and whenever, in descending a slope, 
a sled-load was upset, it always created hilarious laughter. 

The younger children, even during the severest part of the 
winter when it registered forty or more degrees below zero, 
were always kept comfortably warm, sometimes uncomfortably 
warm, in the rabbit-skin coats that their mother and their 
grandmother had made for them. The rabbit skins were cut 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 141 

into thin, spiral strips and twisted, with the hair-side out, about 
thin thongs, and woven together hke a small-meshed fish-net, 
so that, though the hair overlapped and filled every mesh 
completely, one's fingers might be passed through the garment 
anywhere. They also made rabbit-skin blankets in the same 
way; and of all blankets used in the north woods, none has 
so many good qualities. A rabbit-skin blanket is less bulky 
than that of the caribou skin; it is warmer than the famous four- 
point woollen blanket of the H. B. Co., and not only ventilates 
better than either of the others, but it is light to carry. It has 
the drawback, however, that unless it is enclosed in a covering 
of some fight material, the hair gets on everything, for as long 
as the blanket lasts it sheds rabbit hair. I have tried many 
kinds of beds, and many kinds of blankets, and sleeping bags, 
too, even the Eskimo sleeping bag of double skin — hairless 
sealskin on the outside and hairy caribou skin on the inside — 
and many a night I have slept out in the snow when it was fifty 
degrees below zero, and experience has taught me that the 
rabbit skin blanket is best for winter use in the northern forest. 
A sleeping bag that is large enough to get into is too large when 
you are in it; you cannot wrap it around you as you can a 
blanket, therefore it is not so warm; besides, it is harder to 
keep a bag free of gathering moisture than a blanket. 

But to return to the children. It used to amuse me to see the 
boys returning from their hunts carrying their guns over their 
shoulders. The contrast in size between the weapons and the 
bearers of them was so great that by comparison the lads looked 
like Liliputians, yet with all the dignified air of great hunters 
they would stalk up to their sisters and hand them their guns 
and game bags to be disposed of while they sfipped off their 
snowshoes, Ughted their pipes, and entered the lodge. By the 
way, I don't believe I have mentioned that in winter time the 
guns are never kept in the lodges, but always put under cover 
on the stages, as the heat of the lodges would cause the guns to 



142 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

sweat and therefore to require constant drying and oiling; 
and for the same reason, in winter time, when a hunter is 
camped for the night, he does not place his gun near the open 
fire, but sets it back against a tree, well out of range of the heat. 

On one of their rounds of the trapping trails the boys dis- 
covered a splendid black fox in one of Oo-koo-hoo's traps, 
and it was with great pride that the little chaps returned 
home with the prize. 

One sumiy day, late in November, while tobogganing with 
the children on the hillside, our sport was interrupted by the 
approach of a young stranger, an Indian youth of about seven- 
teen. He came tramping along on snowshoes with his little 
hunting toboggan behind him on which was lashed his caribou 
robe, his tea-pail, his kit bag, and a haunch of young moose as a 
present to Amik and his wife. In his hand he carried his gun 
in a moose-skin case. He was a good-looking young fellow, 
and wore the regulation cream-coloured H. B. capote with hood 
and turned-back cuifs of dark blue. He wore no cap, but his 
hair was fastened back by a broad yellow ribbon that encir- 
cled his head. At first I thought he was the advance mem- 
ber of a hunting party, but when I saw the bashful yet 
persistent way in which he sidled up to Neykia, and when 
I observed, too, the shy, radiant glance of welcome she 
gave him, I miderstood; so also did the children, but the 
little rogues, instead of leaving the young couple alone, teased 
their sister aloud, and followed the teasing with boisterous 
laughter. It was then that I obtcdned my first impression of 
the mating of the natives of the northern forest. The sylvan 
scene reminded me of the mating, too, of the white people of 
that same region, and I thought again of the beautiful Atha- 
basca. Was it in the same way that her young white man 
had come so many miles on snowshoes through the winter 
woods just to caU upon her.^ It set me thinking. Again, I 
wondered who "Son-in-law" could be.^ Whence did he come.*^ 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 143 

But, perhaps, after all he was no super-man, or, rather, super- 
lover, for had not Neykia's beau travelled alone in the dead of 
winter, over ninety miles, just to see her once again and to 
speak to her? Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — as the Indians 
called him, stayed three days, but I did not see much of him, 
for I left early the following morning on another round of 
another trapping-path. 

00-KOO-HOO AND THE WOLF ' 

As a faint gray light crept through the upper branches 
of the eastern trees and warned the denizens of the winter 
wilderness of approaching day, the door-skin flapped aside 
and a tall figure stepped from the cozy fire-lit lodge into the 
outer sombreness of the silent forest. It was Oo-koo-hoo. 
His form clad in fox-skin cap, blanket capote, and leggings, made 
a picturesque silhouette of lighter tone against the darker 
shadows of the woods as he stood for a moment scanning the 
starry sky. Re"ntering the lodge, he partook of the breakfast 
his wife had cooked for him, then he kissed her and went out- 
side. Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes, 
slipped his moccasined feet into the thongs, and with his gun 
resting in the hollow of his bemittened hand, and the sled's 
hauling-line over his shoulder, strode off through the vaulted 
aisles between the boles of the evergreens; while through a tiny 
sht in the wall of his moose-skin home two loving eyes watched 
the stalwart figure vanishing among the trees. 

Later on, though the sun was already shining, it was still 
intensely cold. As we went along, Oo-koo-hoo's breath rose 
like a cloud of white smoke fifteen or twenty feet in the air 
before it disappeared. Only the faintest whisper of scuffling 
snowshoes and scrunching snow could be heard; the sound of 
the occasional snapping of a twig came as a startling report 
compared with the almost noiseless tread of the hunter. A 



144 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

little cloud of powdery snow rose above the dragging heels of his 
snowshoes, and, whirUng about, covered the back of his leg- 
gings with a coating of white. Onward he strode, twisting 
through the tangled scrub, stooping under a fallen tree, stepping 
over a snow-capped log, or pacing along a winter-locked stream. 

When Oo-koo-hoo came to a district overgrown with willows 
interspersed with poplars, he stopped to examine a snare set for 
lynx. It had not been disturbed, but a httle farther on we saw 
the form of a dead lynx hanging from a tossing-pole above the 
trail. The carcass was frozen stiff, and the face still showed 
the ghastly expression it had worn in its death struggle. The 
rigid body was taken down and lashed to the sled. Resetting 
the snare, we continued our way. Farther on, in a hilly 
country timbered with spruce, where there was not much under- 
growth, we came to marten traps. In swampy places, or 
where there were creeks and small lakes, we examined traps 
and deadfalls set for mink, muskrat, beaver, fisher, and otter. 
Where the country was fairly open and marked with rabbit 
runways we came upon traps set for foxes and wolves. 

The gray, or timber, wolf is trapped in the same way as the 
coloured fox, save only that the trap is larger. Though the 
steel trap is much in vogue among white men and half-breeds, 
the deadfall, even to this day, is much preferred by the Indian. 
Though, in the first place, it requires more labour to build, yet 
it requires less for transportation since the materials are all 
at hand; and, besides, when once built it lasts for years. Then, 
again, it is not only cheaper, but it is more deadly than the 
steel trap, for once the animal is caught, it seldom escapes. 
With the steel trap it is different, as animals often pull away 
from the steel jaws or even gnaw off a foot in order to get free. 
If, however, the hunter's deadfalls and traps have been set in 
vain, and if the wolf has been causing trouble and the hunter is 
determined to secure him, he will sit up for him at night in the 
hope of getting a shot at him. Years ago many wolves were 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 145 

destroyed with poison, but nowadays it has gone out of use — 
that is, among the fur-hunters of the forest. 

When a wolf is caught in a trap and he sees a hunter ap- 
proaching, he will at first he down, close his eyes, and keep as 
still as possible to escape notice; but should he find that the 
hunter is still coming on, say to within twenty paces from him, 
he will fly into a rage, show his fangs, bristle his hair, and get 
ready for a spring. The hunter usually takes a green stick 
about a yard long by two inches thick, and instead of striking 
a great, swinging blow with both hands, he holds the stick in 
one hand and strikes a short, quick, though powerful, blow, 
hitting the brute on the snout close to the eyes. That stuns 
him, and then the hunter, with either foot or knee, presses 
over the heart until death ensues. But clubbing the wolf is 
dangerous work, for the hunter may hit the trap and set the 
captive free, or it may bite him. So the gun is frequently 
used, but only to shoot the wolf in the head, as a wound any- 
where else would injure the fur. 

Late in the afternoon, as we were approaching a wolf trap, 
Oo-koo-hoo, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped and 
gazed ahead. A large wolf was lying in the snow, evidently 
pretending to be dead. One of its forepaws was held by the 
trap, and the hunter drew his axe and moved forward. As we 
came near, the beast could stand the strain no longer, but rose 
up with bristling hair, champing fangs, and savage growl. 
When Oo-koo-hoo had almost reached the deeply marked cir- 
cle in the snow where the wolf had been struggling to gain its 
freedom, he paused and said: 

"My brother, I need your coat, so turn your eyes away 
while I strike." A momentary calmness came over the beast, 
but as the hunter raised his axe it suddenly crouched, and with 
its eyes flashing with rage, sprang for Oo-koo-hoo's throat. Its 
mighty leap, however, ended three feet short of the mark, for 
the trap chain grew taut, jerked it down and threw it violently 



146 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

upon its back. Instantly regaining its feet, it dashed away on 
three legs, and in its effort to escape dragged the clog through 
the snow. The bounding clog sent the snow flying, and the 
hunter rushed in pursuit, while the wolf dodged among the 
trees to escape a blow from Oo-koo-hoo. Then it bolted again, 
and ran straight for a few yards until the clog caught and held 
fast. The hunter, pressing on with raised axe, had no time to 
draw back when the brute sprang for him as it did; luckily, 
however, his aim was true: the back of the axe descended upon 
the wolf's head, and it fell dead. This was fortunate for the 
hunter, as imwarily he had allowed himself so to get between 
the clog and the beast that the chain almost swung over his 
snowshoes. If he had missed his aim, no doubt it would have 
gone hard with him. 

A few slant rays of the sim penetrating the deep gloom of 
the thick forest and reminding us that day was fast passing, 
we decided to camp there for the night. So we cut a mattress 
of brush, made a fire, and refreshed ourselves with supper before 
we started to skin the wolf. 

THE WAYS OF A WOLF 

Talk of wolves prevailed all evening, and Oo-koo-hoo cer- 
tainly had a store of information upon that subject. In ex- 
pressing surprise that a wolf had strength enough to jerk about 
a big drag-log, as though it were merely a small stick, he replied 
that once when he had killed a full-grown bull-moose and 
dressed and hung up the meat, he had left for camp with part of 
his prize, but on returning again to the cache, he had found 
a wolf moving off with one of the hindquarters. It must 
have weighed close upon a hundred pounds. But perhaps, if 
I quote Charles Mair, the strength and endurance of a wolf 
will be better realized: "In the sketch of 'North- Western 
America' (1868) Archbishop Tache, of St. Boniface, Manitoba, 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 147 

recounts a remarkable instance of persevering fortitude ex- 
hibited by a large, dark wolf caught in a steel trap at Isle a la 
Crosse many years ago, A month afterward it was killed 
near Green Lake, ninety miles distant, with the trap and con- 
necting wood-block still attached to one of its hind legs. It had 
evidently dragged both around in the snow for many a mile, 
during a period of intense cold, and it is, therefore, not sur- 
prising that it was a 'walking skeleton' when finally secured." 

Though the timber-wolf is a fast traveller, it cannot out- 
distance the greyhound or wolf hound ; but though it is seldom 
seen in water it is a good swimmer. Its weight may run from 
seventy-five to one hundred and fifty pounds, and an extra 
large wolf may stand close to thirty inches at the shoulder, 
and be over five feet in length. In colour they range from white 
to nearly black, but the ordinary colour is a light brownish gray. 
Usually they mate in February, but whether or not for life, it is 
hard to say. They breed in a hollow log, or tree or stump, or 
in a hole in the ground, or in a cave. The young are normally 
born in April, usually six or eight in a litter, and the father helps 
to care for them. 

Many of the wolves I have seen were running in pairs, some 
in families, and the greatest number I have ever seen together 
was seven. That was in Athabasca in the winter time. The 
seven were in a playful mood, racing around and jumping over 
one another; and though all were fuU-grown, five of them dis- 
played the romping spirits of puppies, and I wondered if they 
could be but one family. Though my dog-driver and I, with 
our dog-train, passed within about a hundred paces of them, 
and though we were all on a sunny lake, they never ceased 
their play for a single moment, nor did they show in any way 
that they had seen us. 

There are several voices of the wilderness that cause some 
city people alarm and dread, and they are the voices of the 
owl, the loon, and the timber-wolf. But to me their voices 



148 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

bring a solemn, at times an eerie, charm, that I would gladly go 
miles to renew. Though much of the wolf -howling has been of 
httle appeal, I have heard wolf concerts that held me spell- 
bound. On some occasions — but always at night — they lasted 
without scarcely any intermission for three or four hours. The 
first part of the programme was usually rendered — according 
to the sound of their voices — by the youngest of the pack; later 
the middle-aged seemed to take the stage; but of all the 
performance, nothing equalled in greatness of volume or in rich- 
ness of tone the closing numbers, and they were always ren- 
dered by what seemed to be some mighty veteran, the patriarch 
of the pack, for his effort was so thrilling and awe-inspiring 
that it always sent the gooseflesh rushing up and down my 
back. Many a time, night after night, beneath the Northern 
Lights, I have gone out to the edge of a lake to listen to 
them. 

When hunting big game, such as deer, wolves assist one an- 
other and display a fine sense of the value of team-work in 
running down their prey. Though the wolf is a shy and cau- 
tious animal, he is no coward, as the way he will slash into a 
pack of dogs goes far to prove. In the North the stories of the 
wolf's courage are endless; here, for example, is one: "During 
our residence at Cumberland House in 1820," says Richardson, 
"a wolf, which had been prowling and was wounded by a 
musket ball and driven off, returned after it became dark, 
whilst the blood was still flowing from its wound, and carried 
off a dog, from amongst fifty others, that howled piteously, 
but had no courage to unite in an attack on their enemy." 

Nevertheless, wolves rarely attack man, in fact, only when 
they are afflicted with rabies or hydrophobia. No doubt every- 
one has read, at one time or another, harrowing stories of the 
great timber-wolves of our northern forest forming themselves 
into huge packs and pursuing people all over the wilderness 
until there is nothing left of the unfortunate community save 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 149 

a few odds and ends of cheap jewellery. Even our most digni- 
fied and reliable newspapers are never loath to publish such 
thrilling drivel; and their ignorant readers gulp it all down, 
apparently with a rehshing shudder; for the dear pubHc not 
only loves to be fooled, but actually gloats over that sort of 
thing, since it is their hereditary belief. 

When I was a boy, I, too, thrilled over such nonsense, and 
when I made my first trip into the forest I began to delve 
for true wolf stories, and I have been delving ever since. So 
far, after over thirty years of digging, I have actually dug up 
what I believe to be one authentic story of an unprovoked 
wolf having actually attacked and killed a man. On several 
occasions, too, I have had the satisfaction of running to cover 
some of the wolf stories pubhshed in our daily press. I 
read a few years ago in one of Canada's leading daily papers — 
and no doubt the same account was copied throughout the 
United States — a thrilling story of two lumber-jacks in the 
wilds of Northern Ontario being pursued by a pack of timber- 
wolves, and the exhausted woodsmen barely escaping with 
their lives, being forced by the ferocious brutes to spend a whole 
night in a tree at a time when the thermometer registered — 
below zero. I am sorry I have forgotten the exact degree of 
frost the paper stated, but as a rule it is always close to 70 or 
80 degrees below zero when the great four-legged demons of the 
forest go on the rampage. 

THE WOLVES AND GREENHORNS 

Several years later, when I was spending the summer at 
Shahwandahgooze, in the Laurentian Mountains, I again met 
Billy Le Heup, the hunter, and one night when we were hsten- 
ing to a wolf concert I mentioned the foregoing newspaper 
thriller. Billy laughed and acknowledged that he, too, had 
read it, but not until several weeks after he had had a chance to 



150 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

investigate, first hand, the very same yarn; for he, too, had 
been traihng wolf stories all his hfe. 

It so happened that Le Heup's work had taken him through 
the timber country north of Lake Temiscamingue. While 
stopping one day at a lumber camp to have a snack, three men 
entered the cookery where he was eating. One of them was 
the foreman, and he was in a perfect rage. He had discharged 
the other two men, and now he was warning them that if they 

didn't get something to eat pretty quick and leave the 

camp in a — — of a hurry, he would kick them out. Then, just 
before he slammed the door and disappeared, he roared out at 

them that not for one moment would he stand for such 

rot, as their being chased and treed all night by wolves. 

When quiet was restored and the two men had sat down 
beside Le Heup at the dining table, he had questioned them 
and they had told him a graphic story of how they had been 
chased by a great pack of wolves and how they had managed 
to escape with their hves by climbing a tree only just in the 
nick of time; and, moreover, how the ferocious brutes had kept 
them there all night long, and how, consequently, they had 
been nearly frozen to death. 

It was a thrilling story and so full of detail that even "old- 
timer" Le Heup grew quite interested and congratulated him- 
self on having at last actually heard, first hand, a true story of 
how Canadian timber-wolves, though improvoked, had pur- 
sued, attacked, and treed two men. Indeed, he was so im- 
pressed that he decided to back-track the heroes' trail and 
coimt for himself just how many wolves the pack had numbered. 
So he got the would-be lumber-jacks — for they were greenliorns 
from the city — to point out for him their incoming trail, which 
he at once set out to back-track. After a tramp of three or 
four miles he came to the very tree which from all signs they 
had climbed and in which they had spent the night. Then 
desiring to count the wolf tracks in the snow, he looked around, 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 151 

but never a one could he see. Walking away for about a 
hundred yards he began to circle the tree, but still without 
success. He circled again with about an eighth of a mile 
radius, but still no wolf tracks were to be seen. As a last resort 
he circled once more about a quarter of a mile from the tree, 
and tliis time he was rewarded; he found wolf tracks in the 
snow. There had been three wolves. They had been running 
full gallop. Moreover, they had been trailing a white-tailed 
deer; but never once had either deer or wolves paused in their 
run, nor had they come within a quarter of a mile of the tree 
in which the greenhorns from the city had spent the night. Of 
such material are the man-chasing, man-kilhng wolf stories 
made. 

Frequently I have had timber-wolves follow me, sometimes 
for half an hour or so; on one occasion two of the largest and 
handsomest timber-wolves I ever saw followed me for over two 
horn's. During that time they travelled all round me, ahead, 
behind, and on either side; and occasionally they came within 
sixty or seventy feet of me. Yet never once, by action or ex- 
pression, did they show any signs other than those which two 
friendly but very shy dogs might have shown toward me. 

THE WOLF THAT KILLED A MAN 

Of course, wolves will attack a man; when they are trapped, 
wounded, or cornered — ^just as a muskrat will; but of all the 
wolf stories I have ever heard, in which wolves killed a man, 
the following is the only one I have any reason to believe, as 
it was told me first-hand by a gentleman whose word I honour, 
and whose imusual knowledge of animal hfe and northern 
travel places his story beyond a doubt. 

One winter's day in the seventies, when Mr. William Corn- 
wallis King was in charge of Fort Rae, one of the Hudson's 
Bay Company's posts on Great Slave Lake, he was snowshoe- 



152 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

ing to a number of Indian camps to collect furs, and had under 
his command several Indians in charge of his dog-trains. On 
the way they came upon a small party of Dog-rib Indians, who, 
after a smoke and a chat, informed him that, being in need of 
meat, one of their party, named Pot-fighter's-father, had set 
out three days before to hunt caribou; and as he had not re- 
turned, they were afraid lest some evil had befallen him. When 
Mr. King learned that it had been Pot-fighter's-father's inten- 
tion to return to camp on the evening of the first day, he ad- 
vised the Indians to set out at once in search of him. 

After following his tracks for half a day they came suddenly 
upon the footprints of an unusually large wolf which had 
turned to trail the hunter. For some miles the brute had 
evidently followed close beside the trail of Pot-fighter's-father, 
diverging at times as though seeking cover, and then again 
stalking its prey in the open. One Indian continued to follow 
the old man's trail, while another followed that of the wolf. 
They had not gone far before they discovered that Pot-fighter's- 
father had come upon a herd of caribou, and a httle farther 
on they found, lying on the snow, a couple of caribou carcasses 
that he had shot. Strange to say, the animals had not been 
skinned, nor had their tongues been removed. More re- 
markable still, the wolf — although passing close to them — 
had not stopped to feed. Soon they came upon another dead 
caribou, and this time Pot-fighter's-father had skinned it, 
and had cut out its tongue; but again the wolf had refused to 
touch the deer. 

Continuing their pursuit, they discovered a brush wind- 
break where the hunter had evidently stopped to camp for 
the night. Now they noticed that the tracks of the wolf took 
to cover among the scrub. Approaching the shelter, they read 
in the snow the signs of a terrible struggle between a man and 
a wolf. The hunter's gun, snowshoes, and sash containing his 
knife, rested against the windbreak, and his axe stood in the 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 153 

snow where he had been cutting brush. From the snow the 
Indians read the story of the long-drawn fight. Here it told 
how the great wolf had leaped upon the back of the unsuspect- 
ing man while he was carrying an armful of brush, and had 
knocked him down. There it showed that the man had grap- 
pled with the brute and rolled it over upon its back. Here the 
signs showed that the wolf had broken free; there, that the two 
had grappled again, and in their struggle had rolled over and 
over. The snow was now strewn with wolf-hair, and dyed with 
blood. While the dreadful encounter had raged, the battle- 
ground had kept steadily shifting nearer the gun. Just a couple 
of yards away from it lay the frozen body of poor old Pot- 
fighter's-father. His deerskin clothing was slit to tatters; 
his scalp was torn away; his fingers were chewed off, but his 
bloody mouth was filled with hair and flesh of the wolf. 

After burying the body of old Pot-fighter's-father in a 
mound of stones, the Indians determined to continue in pur- 
suit of the wolf. Its tracks at last led them to a solitary lodge 
that stood in the shelter of a thicket of spruce. There the 
hunters were greeted by an Indian who was hving in the tepee 
with his wife and baby. After having a cup of tea, a smoke, 
and then a little chat, the hunters enquired about the tracks 
of the great wolf that had brought them to the lodge. The 
Indian told them that during the night before last, while he 
and his wife were asleep with the baby between them, they had 
been awakened by a great uproar among the dogs. They had 
no sooner sat up than the dogs had rushed into the tepee fol- 
lowed by an enormous wolf. Leaping up, the hunter had 
seized his axe and attacked the beast, while his wife had grab- 
bed the baby, wrapped it in a blanket, and rushing outside, 
had rammed the child out of sight in a snowdrift, and returned 
to help her husband to fight the brute. The wolf had already 
killed one of the dogs, and the Indian in his excitement had 
tripped upon the bedding, faUen, and lost his grip upon his 



154 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

axe. When he rose, he found the wolf between himself and his 
weapon. His wife, however, had seized a piece of firewood 
and, being unobserved by the wolf, had used it as a club and 
dealt the beast so powerful a blow upon the small of the back 
that it had been seriously weakened and had given the Indian 
an opportunity to recover his axe, with wliich at last he had 
managed to kill the wolf. 

It was Mr. King's belief, however, that such unusual be- 
haviour of a wolf was caused by distemper, for the brute 
seemed to display no more fear of man than would a mad dog. 
And he added that the behaviour of the wolf in question was no 
more typical of wolves in general than was the behaviour of a 
mad dog typical of dogs. 

COMING OF THE FUR-RUNNERS 

That night, when we returned home, Oo-koo-hoo said to his 
grandsons: "Ne-geek and Ah-ging-goos, my grandchildren, 
the fur-runner is coming soon. To-morrow do you both take 
the dogs and break a two-days' trail on Otter River in order to 
hasten his coming." 

Next morning the boys set out to break the trail. When 
they camped on Otter River on the afternoon of the second day 
they cached in the river ice some fish for the trader's dogs. 
They chopped a hole and, after placing the fish in, filled it up 
with water, which they allowed to freeze, with the tail of 
a single fish protruding, in order to show the fur-runner what 
was cached below. To mark the spot, they planted a pole 
with its butt in the hole, and rigged up a tripod of sticks to 
support it. At the top of the pole they tied a little bag of tea 
and a choice piece of meat for the trader. At the bend of the 
river below, where he would surely pass, they erected another 
pole with a bunch of fir twigs attached, for the purpose of at- 
tracting his attention to their tracks. 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 155 

On their return home they found Oo-koo-hoo and Amik 
sorting their furs in anticipation of the fur-runner's arrival. 
Before them lay, among the other skins, the skin of the black 
fox, and when the boys entered the lodge Oo-koo-hoo ad- 
dressed the whole family, saying: 

"Do not mention the black fox to the fur-runner, since 
I intend keeping it until I go to the Post, in the hope of making 
a better bargain there. Now sort your skins, and set aside 
those you wish to give in payment on your debt to the Great 
Company." 

During the afternoon of the following day Lawson the fur- 
runner for the Hudson's Bay Company arrived with his dog- 
train. He shook hands with Oo-koo-hoo and Amik and the 
boys, and kissed the women and the girls, as the custom of the 
traders is. It being late in the day, Oo-koo-hoo decided not to 
begin trading until next morning. So they spent the evening 
in spinning yarns around the fire. Shortly after breakfast 
strange dogs were heard. The boys ran out and saw an un- 
known man approaching. When the newcomer — a French- 
Canadian half-breed — had eaten, and had joined the others in 
a smoke, he gave me a letter from Free Trader Spear. Then 
Oo-koo-hoo began questioning him : 

"My brother, you are a stranger in this country; so I have 
given you fire and food and tobacco in friendship. Tell me 
now why and from whence you come?" 

The half-breed replied: "My brother, I come from the 
Border Lands— where the plains and the forests meet — and 
my name is Gibeault. I have come to trade regularly with 
you as I am now working for Free Trader Spear, whose post, 
as you know, is near Fort Consolation. You will do well to 
encourage opposition to the Great Company, and thus raise 
the price of furs." 

The half-breed then presented the hunters with several 
plugs of "T & B," some matches, tea, sugar, flour, and a piece 



156 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of "sow-belly." For some time Oo-koo-hoo sat holding a 
little fresh-cut tobacco in his hand, until Gibeault, taking 
notice, asked him why he did not smoke it. 

"The Great Company always gives me a pipe," replied the 
hunter. 

The runner for the free trader, not to be outdone, gave him 
a pipe. 

"I suppose," began Oo-koo-hoo, "that your heart is glad to 
see me." 

"Yes," replied Gibeault, "and I want to get some of your 
fur." 

"That is all very well, but I will see which way you look at 
me," returned the Indian. 

"Have you much fur.^" asked the half-breed. 

"I have enough to pay my debt to the Great Company." 

"Yes, I know, but you will have some left, and I want to do 
business with you, so bring out your furs and I will treat you 
right." 

"That sounds well, but you must remember that though the 
Great Company cheirges more, their goods are the best goods, 
while yours are all cheap rubbish." 

Thinking the opportunity a favourable one, Gibeault as- 
sumed an air of friendly solicitude and said : 

"The Company has cheated your people so many hundred 
years that they are now very rich. No wonder they can af- 
ford to give you high prices for your furs. Free Trader Spear 
is a poor but honest man. It is to your great advantage to 
trade part of your furs with me in order to make it worth 
his while to send me here every winter. As you know, my 
presence here compels the Company to pay full value for 
your furs and so you are the one who reaps the greatest 
benefit." 

"That is partly true," answered Oo-koo-hoo, "but I must 
be loyal to the Company. You are here to-day and away to- 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 157 

morrow; but the Company is here for ever. But I will not be 
hard on you; I will wait and see how you look at me." 

For a while the dignified Indian sat puffing at his pipe 
and gazing at the fire. Every line of his weather-beaten and 
wrinkled but handsome face was fuU of sterling character. 
At times his small eyes twinkled as a flash of cunning crept 
into them, and a keen sense of humour frequently twitched the 
corners of his determined mouth. Then he brought out a 
pack of furs and, handing it to Lawson, said : 

"This is to pay the Great Company for the advances they 
gave us last summer." 

Lawson took the bundle without opening it, as it would not 
be checked over until he delivered it at Fort Consolation. 
Resenting the Indian's attitude toward Gibeault he began: 

"I see, now that there's another trader here, it's easy for you 
to forget your old friends. The free trader comes and goes. 
Give him your furs, an' he doesn't care whether you're dead 
to-morrow. It's not like that with the Great Company. The 
Company came first among your people, and since then it has 
been hke a father, not only to all your people before you, but 
to you as well. Whenever your forefathers were smitten with 
hunger or disease, who looked after them.^^ It wasn't the free 
trader; it was the Company. Who sells you the best goods.^ 
It isn't the free trader; it's the Company. Who gave you your 
debt last fall and made it possible for you to hunt this winter .►> 
It wasn't the free trader; it was the Company. My brother, 
you have none to thank but the Great Company that you're 
alive to-day." 

With a grunt of disapproval Oo-koo-hoo sullenly retorted: 

"The Priest says it is The Master of Life we have to thank 
for that. I am sure that the Commissioner of the Great Com- 
pany is not so great as God. It is true you give us good prices 
now, but it is also true that you have not given us back the 
countless sums you stole from our fathers and grandfathers 



158 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

and all our people before them; for did you not wait until the 
coming of the free traders before you would give us the worth 
of our skins? No wonder you are great masters ; it seems to me 
that it takes great rogues to become great masters." 

The angry Lawson, to save a quarrel, bit his moustache, 
smiled faintly and, presenting the hunter with even more than 
Gibeault had given, said : 

"Never mind, my brother, you're a pretty smart man." 

Without replying, Oo-koo-hoo accepted the present so eagerly 
that he jerked it out of the trader's hand. That pleased Law- 
son. Presently the Indian threw down a bear skin, saying: 

"My brother, this is to see how you look at me." 

Now the way of the experienced fur-runner is to offer a big 
price — often an excessive price — for the first skin. He cal- 
culates that it puts the Indian in a good humour and in the 
end gives the trader a chance of getting ahead of the native. 
That is just what Lawson did, and Gibeault refused to raise the 
bid. 

"My brother," said the Indian addressing the latter, "you 
had better go home if you cannot pay better prices than the 
Great Company." 

Gibeault, nettled, outbid his rival for the next skin, and thus 
it went on, first one and then the other raising the prices higher 
and higher, much to the delight of the Indians. Oo-koo-hoo 
had already sold a number of skins for more than their market 
value before it dawned on the white men that they were play- 
ing a losing game. Though glaring savagely at each other, 
both were ready to capitulate, Lawson, pretending to ex- 
amine some of Gibeault's goods, stooped and whispered : 

"We're actin' like fools. If we keep this up our bosses will 
fire us both." 

"Let's swap even — ^you take every other skin at your own 
figure," returned the French half-breed. 

"Agreed," said Lawson, straightening up. 



00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 159 

No longer outbidding one another, they got the next few 
skins below the market price. But before the traders had 
made good their loss the Indian gathered up his furs and turn- 
ing to the fur-runners with a smile, said : 

"My brothers, as I see that you have agreed to cheat me, I 
have decided that I and my people will keep all our furs until 
we go out next spring; so it is now useless for you to remcdn 
any longer." 

Having read the note Gibeault brought me from Free 
Trader Spear, I hastened to hand the half-breed my reply, 
accepting Mr. and Mrs. Spear's invitation to be their guest 
for a few days when everyone would be gathering at Fort 
Consolation to attend the New Year's dance; and again I 
wondered if "Son-in-law" would be there. 



V 

MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 

WHO IS SON-IN-LAW? 

Christmas week had arrived and now we were off for the 
New Year's dance to be held at Fort Consolation. Instead of 
travelling round three sides of an oblong as we had done to 
reach Oo-koo-hoo's hunting ground by canoe, we now, travelling 
on snowshoes, cut across country, over hill and valley, lake and 
river, in a southeasterly direction, until we struck Caribou 
River and then turned toward White River and finally arrived 
at God's Lake. Our little party included Oo-koo-hoo, his 
wife Ojistoh, their granddaughter Neykia, and myself. Our 
domestic outfit was loaded upon two hunting sleds in the 
hauling of which we all took turns, as well as in relieving each 
other in the work of track beating. At night we camped in 
the woods without any shelter save brush windbreaks over 
the heads of our beds, our couches being made of balsam-twigs 
laid shingle fashion in the snow. For the sake of warmth 
Ojistoh and Neykia slept together, while Oo-koo-hoo and I 
cuddled up close to one another and fitted together like spoons 
in a cutlery case, for the cold sometimes dipped to forty 
below. 

The prisoner of the city, however, may think sleeping under 
such conditions not only a terrible hardship but a very dan- 
gerous thing in the way of catching one's death of cold. I 
can assure him it is nothing of the kind — when the bed is prop- 
erly made. And not only does one never catch cold under 
such conditions, but it is my experience that there is no easier 

160 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 161 

way to get rid of a bad cold than to sleep out in the snow, 
wrapped in a Hudson's Bay blanket, a caribou robe, or a rab- 
bit-skin quilt, when the thermometer is about fifty below zero. 
But rather than delay over a description in detail of the mere 
novelty of winter travel, let us hurry along to our first destina- 
tion, and visit the Free Trader Mr. Spear and his family, 
and find out for our own satisfaction whether or not the 
mysterious "Son-in-law" had recently been courting the 
charming Athabasca. 

When we reached God's Lake, for a while we snowshoed 
down the centre, until at the parting of our ways we said good- 
bye, for the Indians were heading directly for Fort Consolation. 
As I neared Spearhead and came in view of its one and only 
house, the Free Trader's dogs set up a howl, and Mr. Spear 
came out to greet me and lead me into the sitting room where 
I was welcomed by his wife and daughter. Now I made a dis- 
covery: quartered in a box in the hall behind the front door 
they had three geese that being quite free to walk up and down 
the hall, occasionally strolled about for exercise. As good 
luck would have it, supper was nearly ready, and I had just 
sufficient time to make use of the tin hand-basin in the kitchen 
before the tea bell rang. Again, during the first half of the 
meal we all chatted in a hvely strain, all save Athabasca, 
who, though blushing less than usual, smiled a Httle more, 
and murmured an occasional yes or no; all the while looking 
even more charming. But her composure endured not long, 
for her mother presently renewed the subject of "Son-in- 
law": 

"Father, don't you think it would be a good idea if you took 
son-in-law into partnership very soon?" 

"Yes, Mother, I do, because business is rapidly growing, 
and I'll need help in the spring. Besides, it would give me a 
chance to do my own fur-running in winter, and in that way I 
believe I could double, if not treble, our income." 



162 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Athabasca turned crimson and I followed suit — for being 
a born blusher myself, and mortally hating it, I could never 
refrain from sympathizing with others similarly afflicted. 

"Precisely, Father," rephed Mrs. Spear, "that's exactly 
what I thought. So you see you wouldn't be making any 
sacrifice whatever, and such an arrangement would prove an 
advantage all round. Everybody would be the happier for it, 
and it seems to me to delay the wedding would be a vital mis- 
take." 

From that moment until we left the table Athabasca con- 
centrated her vision on her plate; and I wondered more than 
ever who "Son-in-law" could be. Then an idea came to me, 
and I mused: "We'll surely see him at Fort Consolation." 

After supper I discovered a new member of the household, 
a chore-boy, twenty-eight years of age, who had come out from 
England to learn farming in the Free Trader's stump lot, and 
who was paying Mr. Spear so many hundred dollars a year 
for that privilege, and also for the pleasure of daily cleaning 
out the stable — and the pig pen. When I first saw him, I 
thought: "Why here, at last, is 'Son-in-law.' " But on second 
consideration, I knew he was not the lucky man, for it was 
evident the Spears did not recognize him as their social equal, 
since they placed him, at meal time, out in the kitchen at the 
table with their two half-breed maid-servants. 

That evening, while sitting around the big wood stove, we 
discussed Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, and even the latest novel 
that was then in vogue — "Trilby," if I remember right — ^for 
the Spears not only subscribed to the Illustrated London 
News and Blackwood's but they took Harper's and 
Scribner's, too. And by the way, though Athabasca had 
never been to school, her mother had personally attended to her 
education. When bedtime arrived, they all peeled off their 
moccasins and stockings and hung them round the stove to dry, 
and then pitter-pattered up the cold, bare stairs in their bare 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 163 

feet. I was shown into the spare room and given a candle, 
and when I bade them good-night and turned to close the door, 
I discovered that there was no door to close, nor was there 
even a cm-tain to screen me from view. The bed, however, 
was an old-fashioned wooden affair with a big solid footboard, 
so I concluded that in case of any one passing the doorway, 
I could crouch behind the foot of the bed. Then, when I 
blew out my candle, I got a great surprise, for lo and behold! 
I could see all over the house! I could see "Paw and Maw" 
getting undressed, Athabasca saying her prayers, and the half- 
breed maids getting into bed. 

How did it happen? The cracks between the upright boards 
of my partition were so wide that I could have shoved my 
fingers through. As a matter of fact, Mr. Spear explained next 
day, the lumber being green, rather than nail the boards tightly 
into place, he had merely stood them up, and waited for them 
to season. 

During the night the cold grew intense, and several 
times I was startled out of my sleep by a frosty report from 
the ice and snow on the roof that reminded one of the firing of a 
cannon. 

In the morning when the geese began screeching in the 
lower hall, I thought it was time to get up, and was soon in the 
very act of pulUng off a certain garment over my head when 
one of the half-breed maids — the red-headed one whose hair 
Mr. Spear had cut off with the horse clippers — intruded 
herself into my room to see if I were going to be down in 
time for breakfast, and I had to drop behind the foot of 
the bed. 

At breakfast, the fu"st course was oatmeal porridge; the 
second, "Son-in-law"; the third, fried bacon, toast, and tea; 
after which we all put on our wraps for our five-mile trip across 
God's Lake to Fort Consolation. Everyone went, maids, 
chore-boy, and all, and everyone made the trip on snowshoes — 



164 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

all save the trader's wife, who rode in state, in a carriole, 
hauled by a tandem train of four dogs. 

THE NEW year's DANCE 

It was a beautiful sunny day and the air was very still; 
and though the snow was wind-packed and hard, the footing 
was very tiresome, for the whole surface of the lake was just one 
endless mass of hard-packed snowdrifts that represented noth- 
ing so much as a great, stormy, white-capped sea that had been 
instantly congealed. And for us it was just up and down, in 
and out, up and down, in and out, all the way over. These 
solid white waves, however, proved one thing, and that was 
the truth of Oo-koo-hoo's woodcraft; for, just as he had previ- 
ously told me, if we had been suddenly encompassed by a 
dense fog or a heavy snowstorm, we could never for a moment 
have strayed from our true course; as all the drifts pointed 
one way, south-by-southeast, and therefore must have kept us 
to our proper direction. 

There were many dogs and sleds, and many Indians and half- 
breeds, too, about the Fort when we arrived; and as the dogs 
heralded our approach, the Factor came out to greet us and 
wish us a Happy New Year. At the door Mrs. Mackenzie, 
the half-breed wife of the Factor, was waiting with a beaming 
smile and a hearty welcome for us ; and after we had removed our 
outer wraps, she led us over to the storehouse in which a big 
room had been cleared, and heated, and decorated to answer 
as a ballroom and banqueting hall. Tables were being laid 
for the feast, and Indian mothers and maidens and children, 
too, were already sitting on the floor around the sides of the 
room, and with sparkhng eyes were watching the work in 
happy expectation. Around the doorway, both out and in, 
stood the men — Indians and half-breeds and a few French 
and Enghsh Canadians. Some wore hairy caribou capotes, 




m 



■fli 



The bear circled a little in order to descend. Presently it left the 
sfiadow of the forest and, emerging into sunlight on a snow-covered 
ledge, turned its fiead as tliough it had heard a sound in the 
rear. It was Oo-koo-fioo speaking: "Turn your head away, my 
brother . . .' but the report of his gun cut short fiis sentence, and 
the bear, leaping forward disappeared among , . . . See Cfiapter IV 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 165 

others hairless moose-skin jackets trimmed with otter or beaver 
f m;-, others again were garbed in dulTel capotes of various colom-s 
with hoods and tm-ned-back cuffs of another hue; but the 
majority wore capotes made of Hudson's Bay blanket and 
trimmed with slashed fringes at the shoulders and skirt; while 
their legs were encased in trousers gartered below the knee, 
and their feet rested comfortably in moccasins. Though, when 
snowshoeing, all the men wore hip-high leggings of duifel or 
blanket, the former sometimes decorated with a broad strip of 
another colour, the latter were always befringed the whole way 
down the outer seam; both kinds were gartered at the knee. 
Such leggings are always removed when entering a lodge or 
house or when resting beside a campfire — in order to free the 
legs from the gathered snow and prevent it from thawing and 
wetting the trousers. The children wore outer garments of 
either blanket or rabbit skin, while the women gloried in bril- 
hant plaid shawls of two sizes — a small one for the head and a 
large one for the shoulders. The short cloth skirts of the 
women and girls were made so that the fullness at the waist, 
instead of being cut away, was merely puckered into place, and 
beneath the lower hem of the skirt showed a pair of beaded 
leggings and a pair of silk-worked moccasins. 

All the Indians shook hands with us, for in the Canadian 
Government's treaty with them it is stipulated that: "We 
expect you to be good friends with everyone, and shake hands 
with all whom you meet." And I might further add that the 
Indian — ^when one meets him in the winter bush — is more 
pohte than the average white man, for he always removes his 
mitten, and offers one his bare hand. Further, if his hand 
happens to be dirty, he will spit on it and rub it on his leggings 
to try and cleanse it before presenting it to you. But when he 
did that, I could never decide which was the more acceptable 
condition — before or after. 

When the Factor entered, he was greeted with a perfect gale 



166 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of merriment, as it was the ancient custom of the Great Com- 
pany that he should kiss every woman and girl at the New 
Year's feast. After that historical ceremony was over — in 
which Free Trader Spear also had to do his duty — and the 
laughter had subsided, the principal guests were seated at the 
Factor's table, the company consisting of the three clergymen, 
the Spears, myself, the two North- West Mounted Policemen — 
who had just arrived from the south — and a few native head- 
men, including my friend Oo-koo-hoo. Though the feast was 
served in relays, some of the guests who were too hungry to 
await their turn were served as they sat about the floor. The 
dishes included the choice of moose, caribou, bear, lynx, 
beaver, or muskrat. 

Then a couple of picturesque, shock-haired French Cana- 
dians got up on a big box that rested upon a table, and tuning 
up their fiddles, the dance was soon in full swing. In rapid 
succession the music changed from the Double Jig to the Reel 
of Four, the Duck Dance, the Double Reel of Four, the Reel 
of Eight, and the Red River Jig, till the old log storehouse shook 
from its foundation right up to its very rafters. The breath- 
less, perspiring, but happy couples kept at it until exhaustion 
fairly overtook them, and then dropping out now and then, they 
sat on the floor around the walls till they had rested ; and then, 
with all their might and main, they went at it again. Among 
other things I noticed that the natives who were smoking 
were so considerate of their hosts' feelings that they never 
for a moment forgot themselves enough to soil the freshly 
scrubbed floor, but always used their upturned fur caps as 
cuspidors. 

The children, even the little tots, showed great interest in 
the dancing of their parents, and so delighted did they become 
that they would sometimes gather in a group in a corner and 
try to step in time with the music. 

Everyone that could dance took a turn — even Oo-koo-hoo 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 167 

and old Granny did the "light fantastic" — and at one time or 
another all the principal guests were upon the floor; all save — 
the priest. The scarlet tunics of the corporal and the con- 
stable of the Royal North- West Mounted Police as well as the 
sonibre black of the English Church and the Presbyterian 
clergymen, added much to the whirling colour scheme, as well 
as to the joy of the occasion. But look where I would I could 
not find "Son-in-law," and though the blushing Athabasca 
was often in the dance, it was plain to see her lover was not 
there, for even the handsome policemen, though they paid 
her marked attention, gave no sign, either of them, of being 
the lucky one. In the number of partners, Oo-koo-hoo's 
granddaughter outshone them all, and, moreover, her lover 
was present. At every chance Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — ■ 
was shyly whispering to her and she was looking very happy. 
Even I rose to the occasion and had for my first partner our 
host's swarthy wife, a wonderful performer, who, after her 
husband's retirement from the service of the Hudson's Bay 
Company, became the most popular dancer in all Winnipeg. 
Nor must I forget my dance with that merry, muscular, iron- 
framed lady, Oo-koo-hoo's better half — old Granny — who at 
first crumpled me up in her gorilla-like embrace, and ended by 
swinging me clean off my feet, much to the merriment of the 
Indian maidens. 

As the afternoon wore on the Rabbit Dance began, and was 
soon followed by the Hug-Me-Snug, the Drops of Brandy, and 
the Saskatchewan Circle, and — last but not least — the Kissing 
Dance. And when the Kissing Dance was encored for the fifth 
time, the company certainly proclaimed it a Happy New Year. 

THE BEAUTIFUL ATHABASCA 

Again at tea time the guests gathered round the festive 
board; then, a little later, the music once more signalled the 



168 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

dancers to take their places on the floor. Hour after hour it 
went on. After midnight another supper was served ; but still 
"the band" — consisting of a violin and a concertina — played 
on, and still the moccasined feet pounded the floor without 
intermission. At the very height of the fun, when the Free 
Trader's charming daughter was being whirled about by a 
scarlet tunic, Mrs. Spear turned to me and beamed: 

"Doesn't Athabasca look radiantly beautiful.^" 

"Indeed she does!" I blushed. 

"And what a dehghtful party this is . . . but there's 
just one thing lacking ... to make it perfect." 

"What's that? " I enquired. 

"A wedding . . . my dear." Then, after a long pause, 
during which she seemed to be staring at me — but I didn't 
dare look — she impatiently tossed her head and exclaimed: 

"My . . . but some men are deathly slow!" 

"Indeed they are," I agreed. 

About four o'clock in the morning the music died down, 
then, after much hand-shaking, the company dispersed in 
various directions over the moonht snow; some to their near-by 
lodges, some to the log shacks in the now-deserted Indian 
village, and others to their distant hunting grounds. It must 
have been nearly five o'clock before the ladies in the Factor's 
house went upstairs, and the men lay down upon caribou, 
bear, and buffalo skins on the otherwise bare floor of the hving 
room. It was late next morning when we arose, yet already 
the pohcemen had vanished — they had again set out on their 
long northern patrol. 

At breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Spear invited me to return and 
spend the night with them, and as Oo-koo-hoo and his wife 
wanted to remain a few days to visit some Indian friends, and 
as the Factor had told me that the north-bound packet with 
the winter's mail from the railroad was soon due; and as, 
moreover, the Fur Brigade would be starting south in a few 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 169 

days, and it would travel for part of the way along our home- 
ward trail, I accepted Mr. Mackenzie's invitation to return 
to Fort Consolation and depart with the Fur Brigade. 

It was a cold trip across the lake as the thennometer had 
dropped many degrees and a northwest wind was blowing in 
our faces. As I had frequently had my nose frozen, it now 
turned white very quickly, and a half-breed, who was crossing 
with us, turned round every once in a while and exclaimed to 
me: 

"Oh my gudi your nose all froze!" 

The snow seemed harder than ever, and for long stretches 
we took off our snowshoes and ran over the drifts, but so wind- 
packed were they that they received httle impression from our 
feet. Of course, when we arrived at Spearhead, the house was 
cold and everything in it above the cellar — except the cats and 
geese — was frozen solid ; but it is surprising how quickly those 
good old-fashioned box stoves will heat a dwelhng; for in 
twenty or thirty minutes those wood-burning stoves were red- 
hot and the whole house comfortably warm. 

It's strange, but nevertheless true, that "Son-in-law" was 
never once mentioned at dinner, but later on, when Athabasca 
and I were sitting one on either side of the room, Mrs. Spear 
got up and, getting a picture book, asked: 

"Mr. Heming, are you fond of pictures? Daughter has a 
delightful little picture book here that I want her to show you, 
so now, my dears, both sit over there on the sofa where the 
hght will be better, and look at it together." 

Moving over to the old horsehair sofa — the pride of all 
Spearhead and even of Fort Consolation — we sat down to- 
gether, much closer than I had expected, as some of the springs 
were broken, thus forming a hollow in the centre of the affair, 
into which we both slid without warning — ^just as though it 
were a trap set for bashful people. Then Mrs. Spear with a 
sigh, evidently of satisfaction, withdrew from the room, and 



170 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

we were left alone together. With the book spread out upon 

our knees we looked it over for perhaps Well, I am not sure 

how long, but anyway, when I came to, I saw something just 
in front of me on the floor. Really, it startled me. For in 
following it up with my eye I discovered that it was the toe of 
a moccasin, and the worst of it was that it was being worn 
by Mrs. Spear. There, for ever so long, she must have been 
standing and watching us. The worst of that household was 
that all its members wore moccasins, so you could never hear 
them coming. 

That night, when we were sitting around the stove, Mrs. 
Spear explained to me how she had educated her daughter and 
added: "Rut perhaps, after all, if the wedding is not going to 
take place right away, it might be well to send Daughter to 
some finishing school for a few months — say in Toronto," and 
then, after a little pause, and still looking at me, she asked: 
"To which school would you prefer us to send Athabasca?" 

When I named the most fashionable girls' school in that 
city, "Paw and Maw" settled it, there and then, that Daughter 
would attend it next fall, that is, unless it was decided to 
celebrate her wedding at an earlier date. 

Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Spear suggested that 
Athabasca should take me for a drive through the woods and 
Mr. Spear remarked: 

"You know, Mr. Heming, we haven't any cutter or any 
suitable sleigh, and besides, one of the horses is working in the 
stump lot; but I think I can manage." 

In a little while he led a horse round to the front door. The 
animal had a pole attached to either side, the other end of 
which dragged out behind; across the two poles, just behind 
the horse's tail, was fastened a rack of cross poles upon which 
was placed some straw and a buffalo robe. It was really a 
travois, the kind of conveyance used by the Plains Indians. 
Getting aboard the affair, off we went, the old plug rumbling 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 171 

along in a kind of a trotting walk, while Athabasca held the 
reins. The morning being a fine sunny one, and the trees 
being draped and festooned with snow, the scene was so beauti- 
ful when we got into the thicker woods that it made one think 
of fairyland. A couple of fluffy little whiskey jacks followed 
us all the way there and back, just as though they wanted to 
see and hear everything that was going on; but those little 
meddlers of the northwoods must have been disappointed, 
for both Athabasca and I were not only too shy to talk, but too 
bashful even to sit upright; in fact, we both leaned so far 
away from one another that we each hung over our side of the 
trap, and did nothing but gaze far off into the enchanted wood. 
We must have been gone nearly two hours when the house 
again came into view. Yes, I enjoyed it. It was so romantic. 
But what I couldn't understand was why her parents allowed 
her to go with me, when they were already counting on "Son- 
in-law" marrying her. It was certainly a mystery to me. 
However, that afternoon I left for Fort Consolation. 

BACK TO FORT CONSOLATION 

On my way across the lake I noticed that the wind was 
veering round toward the east and that the temperature was 
rising. When I arrived in good time for supper Factor 
Mackenzie seemed reheved, and remarked that the barometer 
indicated a big storm from the northeast. That night, in 
front of the big open fire, we talked of the fur trade. Among 
other books and papers he showed me was a copy of the Com- 
pany's Deed Poll; not published a century ago, but printed 
at the tune of which I am writing, and thua it read : 

"To all whom these presents shall come, The Governor 
and Company of Adventurers of England Trading into Hud- 
son's Bay send greeting. Whereas His Majesty King Charles 
the Second did, by His Royal Charter, constitute the Governor 



172 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hud- 
son's Bay in a Body Corporate, with perpetual succession and 
with power to elect a Governor and Deputy Governor and 
Committee for the management of their trade and affairs ." 

From it I learned that the commissioned officers appointed 
by the Company to carry on their trade in Canada were: 
a Commissioner, three Inspecting Chief Factors, eight Chief 
Factors, fifteen Factors, ten Chief Traders, and twenty-one 
Junior Chief Traders, all of whom on appointment became 
shareholders in the Company. While the Governor and Com- 
mittee had their offices in London, the Commissioner was the 
Canadian head with his offices in Winnipeg, and to assist him 
an advisory council, composed of Chief Factors and Chief 
Traders, was occasionally called. The Company's territory 
was divided into four departments — the Western, the South- 
ern, the Northern, and the Montreal — while each department 
was again sub-divided into many districts, the total number 
being thirty-four. The non-commissioned employees at the 
various posts were: clerks, postmasters, and servants. Besides 
the regular post servants there were others employed such as: 
voyageurs, among whom were the guides, canoe-men, boatmen, 
and scowmen; then, again, there were fur-runners, fort-hunters, 
and packeteers. 

In the morning a miserable northeaster was blowing a heavy 
fall of snow over the country, and the Factor offered to show 
me the fur-loft where the clerk and a few half-breed men- 
servants were folding and packing furs. First they were put 
into a collapsible mould to hold them in the proper form, then 
when the desired weight of eighty pounds had been reached, 
they were passed into a powerful home-made fur-press, and 
after being pressed down into a solid pack, were corded and 
covered with burlap, and marked ready for shipment. The 
room in which the men worked was a big loft with endless 
bundles of skins of many sizes and colours hanging from the 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 173 

rafters, and with long rows of shelves stacked with folded furs, 
and with huge piles of pelts and opened bales upon the floor. 
Also there were moose and caribou horns lying about, and 
bundles of Indian-made snowshoes hanging by wires from the 
rafters, and in one corner kegs of dried beaver castors. 

THE WINTER MAIL ARRIVES 

On the morning of the second day of the storm I happened 
to be in the Indian shop, where I had gone to see the Factor 
and the clerk barter for the furs of a recently arrived party of 
Indian fur-hunters, when presently I was startled by hearing: 

" Voyez, voyez, lepacquet .'" shouted by Bateese as he flound- 
ered into the trading room without a thought of closing the 
door, though the drifting snow scurried in after him. Vocifer- 
ously he called to the others to come and see, and instantly 
trade was stopped. The Factor, the clerk, and the Indians, 
rushed to the doorway to obtain a glimpse of the long-expected 
packet. For two days the storm had raged, and the snow was 
still blowing in clouds that blotted out the neighbouring forest. 

"Come awa', Bateese, ye auld fule! Come awa' ben, an 
steek yon door! Ye dinna see ony packet!" roared the Factor, 
who could distinguish nothing through the flying snow. 

''Bien, m'sieu, mebbe she not very clear jus' now; but w'en 
I pass from de Mad Wolf's Hill, w'en de storm she hf ' a leetle, 
I see two men an' dog- train on de lac below de islan's," replied 
the half-breed fort-hunter, who had returned from a caribou 
cache, and whose duty it was to keep the fort supplied with 
meat. 

"Weel, fetch me the gless, ma mon; fetch me the gless 
an' aibhns we may catch a glint o' them through this smoorin' 
snaw; though I doot it's the packet, as ye say." And the 
Factor stood shading his eyes and gazing anxiously in the 
direction of the invisible islands. But before the fort-hunter 



174 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

had returned with the telescope, the snowy veil suddenly 
thinned and revealed the gray figure of a tripper coming up the 
bank. 

"Quay, quay! Ke-e-e-pling ! " sang out one of the Indians. 
He had recognized the tripper to be Kipling, the famous snow- 
shoe runner. Inomediately all save the Factor rushed for- 
ward to meet the little half-breed who was in charge of the 
storm-bound packet, and to welcome him with a fusilade of 
gunshots. 

Everyone was happy now, for last year's news of the ''Grand 
Pays'" — the habitant's significant term for the outer world — 
had at last arrived. The monotonous routine of the Post 
was forgotten. To-day the long, dreary silence of the winter 
would be again broken in upon by hearty feasting, merry music, 
and joyous dancing in honour of the arrival of the half-yeeirly 
mail. 

All crowded round the voyageur, who, though scarcely 
more than five feet in height, was famed as a snowshoe runner 
throughout the wilderness stretching from the Canadian 
Pacific Railroad to the Arctic Ocean. While they were eagerly 
plying him with questions, the crack of a dog-whip was heard. 
Soon the faint tinkling of bells came through the storm. In 
a moment all the dogs of the settlement were in an uproar, 
for the packet had arrived. 

With a final rush the gaunt, travel-worn dogs galloped 
through the driving snow, and, eager for the shelter of the 
trading room, bolted pell-mell through the gathering at the 
doorway, upsetting several spectators before the driver could 
halt the runaways by f£illing headlong upon the foregoer's 
back and flattening him to the floor. 

All was excitement. Every dog at the post dashed in with 
bristling hair and clamping jaws to overawe the strangers. 
Amid the hubbub of shouting men, women, and children, the 
cracking of whips, and the yelping of dogs, the packet was 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 175 

removed from the overtmned sled and hustled into the Factor's 
oflBce, where it was opened, and the mail quickly overhauled. 
While the Factor and his clerk were busily writing despatches, 
a relay of dogs was being harnessed, and two fresh runners were 
making ready to speed the mail upon its northward way. 

Before long the Factor's letters were sealed and carefully 
deposited in the packet box, which was lashed on the tail of the 
sled, the forepart of which was packed with blankets, flour, 
tea, and pork for the packeteers, and frozen whitefish for the 
dogs. Then amid the usual handshaking the word ''Marchef" 
was given, and to the tune of cracking whips, whining dogs, and 
crunching snow, the northern packet glided out upon the lake 
with the Indian track-beater hurrying far ahead while the half- 
breed dog-driver loped behind the sled. Thus for over two 
centuries the Hudson's Bay Company had been sending its 
mails through the great wilderness of Northern Canada. 

THE DOG BRIGADE 

That afternoon five dog-trains arrived from outlying posts. 
They had come to join the Dog Brigade that was to leave Fort 
Consolation first thing in the morning on its southern way to 
the far-off raihoad. As I wished to accompany the brigade, I 
had arranged with Oo-koo-hoo that we should do so, as far as 
we could without going out of our way, in returning to his 
hunting grounds. So to bed that night we all went very early, 
and at four o'clock in the morning we were astir again. Break- 
fast was soon over, then followed the packing of the sleds, the 
harnessing of the dogs, the slipping of moccasined feet into 
snowshoe thongs, the shaking of hands, and the wishing of 
farewells. Aheady the tracker, or track-beater, had gone 
ahead to break the trail. 

'' M-a-r-r-che!'' (start) shouted the guide — as the head dog- 
driver is called. Every driver repeated the word; whips cracked; 



176 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

dogs howled, and the brigade moved forward in single file. 
At the head went the Factor's train of four powerful-looking and 
handsomely harnessed dogs hauling a decorated carriole in 
which the Factor rode and behind which trotted a picturesque 
half-breed driver. Next in order went the teams of the Church 
of England clergyman and the Roman Catholic priest, both of 
whom happened to be going out to the railroad. Behind these 
followed twelve sleds or toboggans, laden with furs, which the 
Hudson's Bay Company was shipping to its Department 
Headquarters. When one remembers that black or silver fox 
skins are frequently sold for over a thousand dollars each, one 
may surmise the great value of a cargo of furs weighing nearly 
four thousand pounds, such as the Dog Brigade was hauhng. 
No wonder the Company was using all haste to place 
those furs on the London market before the then high prices 
feU. 

The brigade formed an interesting sight, as the Indians, 
half-breeds, and white men were garbed most curiously; and in 
strong contrast to the brilliant colours worn by the members 
of the brigade, the clergymen trotted along in their sombre 
black — the priest's cassock flowing to his snowshoes, and his 
crucifix thrust, daggerlike, in his girdle. 

The four dogs comprising each of the fur-trains hauled 
three hundred pounds of fur besides the camp outfit and grub 
for both driver and dogs — in all, about five hundred pounds to 
the sled. When the sleighing grew heavy, the drivers used 
long pushing-poles against the ends of the sleds to help the 
dogs. 

TRAVELLING WITH DOG-TRAINS 

While the march always started in a stately way — the Fac- 
tor's carriole in advance — it was not long before the trains 
abandoned their formal order; for whenever one train was 
delayed through any one of many reasons, the train behind 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 177 

invariably strove to steal ahead so that after a few hours' 
run the best dogs were usually leading. 

For several hours we followed the lake and the river, and 
just before dayhght appeared in the southeastern sky the Aurora 
Boreahs vanished from view. Later, a golden glow tipping the 
tops of the tallest trees, heralded the rising of the sun. Coming 
out upon a httle lake — for we were now short-cutting across 
the country — we saw that the light over the distant hills had 
broken into a glorious flood of sunshine. Half over the far-off 
trees, along the horizon, the sun was shining, and the whole 
southeastern sky seemed aflame with bands and balls of fire. 
A vertical ribbon of gradually diminishing lustre, scarcely wider 
than the sun, was rising into the heavens to meet a vast semi- 
circle of rainbow beauty arched above the natural sim. Where 
the strange halo cut the vertical flame and the horizon on either 
side three mock suns marked the intersection. Above the 
natural sun and beneath the halo, four other mock suns studded 
the vertical band of light. It was a wonderful sight and 
lasted fuUy twenty minutes — the sky was just as I have shown 
it in my picture of the York Factory Packet. 

Now the brigade was halted, in voyageur parlance, "to 
speU the dogs one smoke," which, being translated, meant that 
the dogs could rest as long as it took their masters to smoke a 
pipeful of tobacco. The drivers, conversing in httle groups or 
sitting upon sleds as they puffed at their pipes, watched the 
beautiful phenomenon, and the talk turned to the many re- 
markable sun-dogs that they had seen. Presently the mock 
suns grew dim; the arch faded away; the band lost its colour; 
the true sun rose above the trees and then, as ashes were 
knocked from pipes, we resumed our journey. 

After leaving the lake we entered a muskeg that extended 
for miles. Its uneven surface was studded with countless 
grassy hummocks, many of them crowned with wiUow and 
cQder bushes or gnarled and stunted spruces or jack pines. 



178 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

It made hard hauling for the dogs. From a distance, the 
closely following trains reminded one of a great serpent passing 
over the country, that — when it encountered a hummocky 
section requiring the trains to turn from side to side, and to 
glide up and down — seemed to be writhing in pain. Near 
the end of the swamp an open hillside rose before us, and upon 
its snowy slopes the sun showed thousands of rabbit-runs 
intersecting one another in a maze of tracks that made one 
think of a vast gray net cast over the hill. 

Passing into a "bent-pole" district we encountered an 
endless number of httle spruce trees, the tops of which had 
become so laden with snow that their slender stems, no longer 
able to sustain the weight, had bent almost double as they 
let their white-capped heads rest in the snow upon the ground. 
Later, we entered a park-hke forest where pine trees stood 
apart with seldom any brushwood between. Fresh marten 
tracks were noticed in the snow. A little farther on, two timber- 
wolves were seen slinking along like shadows among the distant 
trees as they paralleled our trail on the right. The dogs noticed 
them, too, but they, hke their masters, were too busy to pay 
much attention. The wolves were big handsome creatures 
with thick fluffy coats that waved like tall grasses in a strong 
breeze as they bounded along. 

Coming to a steep hill everyone helped the dogs in their 
climb. When at last the brigade, puffing and panting, reached 
the summit, pipes were at once in evidence and then another 
rest followed. When the descent began, the drivers — ^most 
of them having removed their snowshoes that their feet might 
sink deeper into the snow — seized their trail-lines, and, acting 
as anchors behind the sleds, allowed themselves to be hauled 
stiff-legged through the deep snow in their effort to keep the 
sleds from over-running the dogs. It was exciting work. The 
men throwing their utmost weight upon the lines sought every 
obstruction, swerving against trees, bracing against roots, 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 179 

grasping at branches, and floundering through bushes. Often 
they fell, and occasionally, when they failed to regain their 
footing, were mercilessly dragged downhill; the heavy sleds, 
gathering momentum, overtook the fleeing dogs, and their 
unfortunate masters were ploughed head-first through the 
snow. At the foot of the steepest incline a tumult arose as 
men and dogs struggled together in an effort to free themselves 
from overturned sleds. Above the cursing in French and 
English — but not in Indian — rose the howling of the dogs as 
lead-loaded lashes whistled through the frosty air. One won- 
dered how such a tangle could ever be unravelled, but soon all 
was set straight again. 

About eight o'clock we had our second breakfast and by 
twelve we stopped again for the noon-day meal, both of which 
consisted of bannock, pork, and tea. Wliile we ate, the dogs, 
still harnessed, lay curled up in the snow. 

Again the guide shouted " Ma-r-r-che!''and again the brigade 
moved forward. Some of the trains were handsomely har- 
nessed, especially the Factor's. The loin-cloths of the dogs, 
called tapis, were richly embroidered and edged with fringe. 
Above the collars projected pompons of broken colours and 
clusters of streaming ribbons, while beneath hung a munber of 
befls. All the dogs were hitched tandem, and every train 
was made up of four units. Except the dogs of the Factor's 
train, there were few real "huskies, " as Eskimo dogs are called, 
for most of the brutes were the usual sharp-nosed, heavy- 
coated mongrels that in the Strong Woods Country go by the 
name of giddes; some, however, had been sired by wolves. 

The track-beater's snowshoes, which were the largest used 
by any of the brigade, were Wood Cree "hunting shoes" and 
measured nearly six feet in length. The other men wore 
Chipewyan "tripping shoes" about three feet long — the only 
style of Canadian snowshoes that are made in "rights and 
lefts." 



180 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

For a number of miles we passed through heavily timbered 
forest where shafts of sunlight threw patches of brilliant white 
upon the woodland's winter carpet, and where gentle breezes 
had played fantastically with the falhng snow, for it was 
heaped in all manner of remarkable forms. Here and there 
long, soft festoons of white were draped about groups of 
trees where the living stood interlocked with the dead. 
Among the branches huge "snow-bosses" were seen, and 
"snow-mushrooms" of wondrous shape and bulk were perched 
upon logs and stumps. "Snow-caps" of almost unbelievable 
size were mounted upon the smallest of trees, the slender 
trunks of which seemed ready to break at any moment. It 
was all so strangely picturesque that it suggested an enchanted 
forest. 

Early that afternoon we came upon an Indian lodge hiding 
in the woods, and from within came three httle children. It 
was then fully twenty below zero, yet the little tots, wish- 
ing to watch the passing brigade, stood in the most unconcerned 
way, holding each other by the hand, their merry eyes shining 
from their wistful faces while their bare legs and feet were 
buried in the snow. Though they wore nothing but little 
blanket shirts, what healthy, happy children they appeared to 
be! 

Then out upon a lake we swung where the wind-packed 
snow made easy going. Here the heavy sleds slid along as if 
loadless, and we broke into a run. On rounding a point we saw 
a band of woodland caribou trot off the lake and enter the 
distant forest. By the time we reached the end of the lake, 
and had taken to the shelter of the trees, dusk was creeping 
through the eastern woods and the rabbits had come out to 
play. They were as white as the snow upon which they 
ran helter-skelter after one another. Forward and backward 
they bounded across the trail without apparently noticing 
the dogs. Sometimes they passed within ten feet of us. The 



.,' -).<(»■ «■! mi''!^>f^n^'r»\' '■!*^^«<- 




Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes, slipped 
his moccasined feet into the thongs, and with his gun resting in the 
hollow of his beniittened hand, and the sled's hauling-line over his 
shoulder, strode off through tlie vaulted aisles between the boles of 
evergreens; while through a tiny slit in the wall of his moose-skin 
home two loving eyes watched his stahvart figure vanishing among 
ilie . . . See Cfiapter IV 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 181 

woodland seemed to swarm with them, and no wonder, for it 
was the seventh year, the year of Northland game abundance, 
when not only rabbits are most nmnerous, but also all the 
other dwellers of the wilderness that prey upon them. Al- 
ready, however, the periodical plague had arrived. When I 
stopped to adjust a snowshoe thong I counted five dead hares 
within sight; next year starvation would be stalking the 
forest creatures. 

CAMPING IN THE SNOW 

While the sunset glow was rapidly fading, the brigade halted 
to make camp for the night. All were to sleep in the open, for 
dog brigades never carry tents but bivouac on the snow with 
nothing but a blanket between the sleeper and the Aurora 
Borealis — though the thermometer may fall to sixty below 
zero. Some of the men moved ofi" with axes in their hands, and 
the sound of chopping began to echo through the forest. On 
every side big dry trees came crashing down. Then the huge 
"long fires", driving darkness farther away, began to leap and 
roar. Then, too, could be seen the building of stages on which to 
place the valuable fur-laden sleds out of reach of the destructive 
dogs; the gathering of evergreen brush; the unhitching of dogs 
and the hanging up of their harness in the surrounding trees; 
the unloading of sleds ; the placing of frozen whitefish to thaw 
for the dogs; the baking of bannocks, the frying of pork, and the 
infusing of tea. Then, in silence, the men ate ravenously, while 
the hungry dogs watched them. 

When pipes had been filled and lighted each driver took his 
allotment of fish, called his dogs aside, and gave them a 
couple each. Some of the brutes bolted their food in a few 
gulps and rushed to seize the share of others, but a few blows 
from the drivers' whips drove them back. 

When the dogs had devoured their day's rations — for they 



182 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

are fed only once every twenty-four hours — their masters 
sought out sheltered spots for them and cut a few branches of 
brush for their beds. Some of the men cooked a supply of 
bannock to be eaten the following day. Others hung their 
moccasins, mittens, and leggings on little sticks before the 
fires to dry. It was an animated scene. The "long fires" 
were huge structures, twelve or fifteen feet in length, so that 
each man might bask in the heat without crowding his 
neighbour. A number stood with their back to the blaze while 
the rest sat or lounged on their blankets and, puffing away at 
their pipes, joined in the conversation that before long became 
general. 

Just then the dogs began to blow and then to growl, as a 
strange Indian strode out of the gloom into the brilliant 
glare of the fires. 

" Wat-che! wat-che?'' (What cheer, what cheer .»^) sang out the 
men. The stranger replied in Cree, and then began a lively 
interchange of gossip. The Indian was the track-beater of the 
south-bound packet from the Far North that was now approach- 
ing. All were keenly interested. The cracking of whips and 
the howling of dogs were heard, and a little later the tinkling of 
bells. Then came a train of long-legged, handsomely har- 
nessed dogs hauling a highly decorated carriole behind which 
trotted a strikingly dressed half-breed dog-driver. When the 
train had drawn abreast of our fire an elderly white man, who 
proved to be Chief Factor Thompson, of a still more northerly 
district of the Hudson's Ray Company, got out from beneath 
the carriole robes, cheerfully returned our greeting, and accepted 
a seat on the dunnage beside Factor Mackenzie's fire. Two 
other trains and two other dog-drivers inmiediately followed 
the arrival of the Chief Factor, for they were the packeteers in 
charge of the packet. Now the woods seemed to be fuU of 
talking and laughing men £ind snarhng, snapping dogs. Twenty- 
two men were now crowding round the fires, and seventy-two 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 183 

dogs and eighteen sleds were blocking the spaces between the 
trees. 

NORTHERN MAIL SERVICE 

Chief Factor Thompson was the "real thing," and therefore 
not at all the kind of Hudson's Bay officer that one ever meets 
in fiction. For instead of being a big, burly, "red-blooded 
brute," of the "he-man" type of factor — the kind that springs 
from nowhere save the wild imaginations of the authors who 
have never hved in the wilderness ... he was just a real 
man . . . just a fine type of Hudson's Bay factor, who 
was not only brother to both man and beast, but who knew 
every bird by its flight or song; who loved children with all his 
heart — flowers, too — and whose kindly spirit often rose in song. 
Yes, he was just a real man, hke some of the men you know — but 
after all, perhaps he was even finer — for the wilderness does 
nothing to a man save make him healthier in body and in 
soul; while the cities are the world's cesspools. He was rather 
a small, slender man, with fatherly eyes set in an intelhgent 
face that was framed with gray hair and gray beard. 

After the Cliief Factor and his men had been refreshed with 
bannock, pork, and tea, pipes were filled and hghted and for 
a time we talked of aU sorts of subjects. Later, when we were 
alone for a httle while, I found Mr. Thompson a man richly 
informed on northern travel, for he had spent his whole life in 
the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, and at one time or 
another had been in charge of the principal posts on Hudson 
Bay, Great Slave Lake, and the Peace, the Churchill, the 
Athabasca, and the Mackenzie rivers. Among other subjects 
discussed were dogs and dog-driving; and when I questioned 
him as to the loading of sleds, he answered : 

"UsuaUy, in extremely cold weather, the Company aUots 
dogs not more than seventy-five pomids each, but in milder 
weather they can handily haul a hundred pounds, and toward 



1 



184 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

spring, when sleds slide easily, they often manage more than 
that." Then dreamily puffing at his pipe he added : " I remem- 
ber when six dog-trains of fom* dogs each hauled from Fort 
Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca to Fort Vermillion on the 
Peace River loads that averaged six hundred and fifty pounds 
per sled — not including the grub for the men and dogs and the 
men's dunnage. Then, again, William Irving with Chief Factor 
Camsell's dogs brought to Fort Simpson a load of nine hundred 
pounds. The greatest load hauled by four dogs that I know 
of was brought to Fort Good Hope by Gaudet. When it ar- 
rived it weighed a trifle over one thousand pounds. But 
Factor Gaudet is one of the best dog-drivers in the country." 
Then, re-settling himself more comfortably before the fire, 
he continued: 

"And while I think of it we have had some pretty fine dogs 
in the service of the Company. The most famous of all were 
certainly those belonging to my good friend Chief Factor Wm. 
Clark. He bred them from Scotch stag hounds and "hus- 
kies" — the latter, of course, he procured from the Eskimos. 
His dogs, however, showed more hound than husky. Their 
hair was so short that they had to be blanketed at night. Once 
they made a trip from Oak Point on Lake Manitoba to Winni- 
peg, starting at four o'clock in the morning, stopping for a 
second breakfast by the way, and reaching Winnipeg by one 
o'clock at noon, the distance being sixty miles. They were 
splendid dogs and great pets of his. They used to love playing 
tricks and romping with him. Frequently, when nearing a 
post, they would purposely dump him out of his carriole and 
leaving him behind, go on to the post, where, of course, on their 
arrival with the empty sled, they were promptly sent back for 
Mr. Clark. Understanding the command, they would at once 
wheel about and, without a driver, return on the full 
gaUop to get their master. \\Tien coming upon him they would 
rush around and bark at him, showing all the while the greatest 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 185 

glee over the trick they had played him. He never used a whip 
upon them. No snowshoer could be found who was swift 
enough to break a trail for those dogs and no horse ever over- 
took them. Once, while going from Oak Point to Winnipeg, 
Factor Clark's train ran down six wolves, allowing him to shoot 
the brutes as he rode in his carriole. Another time they over- 
hauled and threw a wolf which Mr. Clark afterward stunned, 
and then bound its jaws together. When the brute came to, it 
found itself harnessed in the train in place of one of the dogs, 
and thus Chief Factor Clark drove a wild timber-wolf into the 
city of Winnipeg." 

"They must have been wonderful dogs," remarked Father 
Jois, "but it's too bad they don't breed such dogs nowadays." 

"That's so," returned the Chief Factor. "Twenty or thirty 
years ago at each of the big posts — the district depots — they 
used to keep from forty to fifty dogs, and at the outposts, from 
twenty to thirty were always on hand. At each of the district 
depots a man was engaged as keeper of the dogs and it was his 
duty to attend to their breeding, training, and feeding." 

"Speaking of feeding, what do you consider the best food for 
dogs.»^" I asked. 

"By all means pemmican," replied the Chief Factor, "and 
give each dog a poimd a day. The next best rations for dogs 
come in the following order: two pounds of dried fish, four 
pounds of fresh deer meat, two rabbits or two ptarmigan, one 
pound of flour or meal mixed with two ounces of tallow. That 
reminds me of the way the old half-breed dog-drivers used to 
do. In such districts as Pelly and Swan River, where fish 
and other food for dogs was scarce, we had frequently to feed 
both men and dogs on rations of flour. Some of the half-breeds 
would leave their ration of flour with their family, and 
count on eating the dog's ration while on the trip and 
letting the poor brutes go hungry, just because the dogs be- 
longed to the Company. So we put a stop to that by mixing 



186 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

coal oil with the dog's rations and having them baked 
into cakes before the trip was begun. Such a mixture made the 
men sick when they tried to eat it, but the dogs didn't seem to 
mind it at all." 

"Then kerosene is not included in the regular rations the 
Company supphes for its trippers and voyageurs.^" I ven- 
tured, laughingly, 

"Hardly, for in the Northland that would be rather an 
expensive condiment." The old gentleman smiled as he con- 
tinued: "In outfitting our people for a voyage, we supply what 
is known as a full ration for a man, a half ration for a woman 
or a dog, and a quarter ration for a child. For instance, we 
give a man eight pounds of fresh deer meat per day while we 
give a woman or a dog only four pounds and a child two pounds. 
A man's ration of fish is four pounds per day, of pemmican two 
pounds, of flour or meal two pounds, of rabbits or ptarmigan 
four of each," said he, as he knocked the ashes from 
his pipe. I was afraid he was going to turn in, so I quickly 
asked : 

"Which is the longest of the Company's packet routes at the 
present day.^" 

"That of the Mackenzie River packet from Edmonton to 
Fort Macpherson. In winter it is hauled two thousand and 
twelve miles by dog-train; and in summer it is carried by the 
Company's steamers on the Athabasca, the Slave, and the 
Mackenzie rivers. Next comes the Peace River packet from 
Edmonton to Hudson's Hope, a distance of over a thousand 
miles. In summer it goes by steamer, and in winter by dog- 
train. There's the York Factory packet from Winnipeg to 
Hudson Bay by way of Norway House, a distance of seven hun- 
dred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs from Selkirk as far 
as Oxford House, and from there to York Factory by men with 
toboggans. In summer it is carried by canoe on Hay River 
and by steamboat on Lake Wimiipeg. Then there's the Liard 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 187 

River packet and the Reindeer Lake packet. Each travels 
about five hundred miles by dogs in winter and by canoe in 
summer. The Moose Factory packet from Temiscamingue to 
James Bay goes by canoe in summer, but by men in winter. 
All mails in and out from Hudson Bay or James Bay to or from 
the next post in the interior, are hauled by men. Dogs are 
seldom used on those routes, on account of the depth of the 
snow and the scarcity of dog feed." 

Though I well knew that packeteers did not carry firearms, I 
asked Chief Factor Thompson — ^just for the sake of getting 
the truth from him and giving it to the pubhc : 

"How does the Hudson's Bay Company arm their 
packeteers?" 

"Arm them.^^" the Chief Factor laughed outright, "why, we 
always provide them with an axe." 

"Firearms, I mean." 

"Firearms! Why, they aren't allowed to carry firearms at 
all. It's against the rules and regulations of the Company. 
In the first place, packeteers are supplied with plenty of grub 
for the trip ; in the next place, if they had a gun they might go 
hunting and foohng around with it instead of attending to their 
business; and, moreover, it doesn't matter whether the mail 
travels two hundred or two thousand miles, there is no occasion 
for packeteers to carry firearms, for there are no highwaymen 
and no animals in this country that would make an offensive 
attack upon them." 

And in truth, in all that wild brigade there were no fire- 
arms save Oo-koo-hoo's old muzzle-loader; but then The 
Owl was a hunter by profession, and he carried a gun only as a 
matter of business. Now for the last twenty-five years that is 
exactly what I have wanted to tell the pubhc. When one reads 
a story, or sees a play or a moving picture, in which characters 
bristhng with firearms are set forth as veritable representatives 
of life in the Canadian wilderness, he may rest assured that the 



188 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

work is nothing but a travesty on life in Canada. Any author, 
any illustrator, any playwright, any scenario writer, any actor 
or any director who depicts Canadian wilderness hfe in that 
way is either an ignoramus or a shameless humbug. And to 
add strength to my statement I shall quote the experience of a 
gentleman who was the first City Clerk, Treasurer, Assessor, 
and Tax Collector of Dawson City — Mr. E. Ward Smith: 

POLICE AND GUNMEN 

"The Mounted Police generally received word in advance 
when any particularly bad character was headed for the 
Yukon, and in all such cases he was met when he slipped off the 
boat. I remember particularly one case of the kind, as I 
happened to be on hand when the American gunman landed. 
He was a quiet enough looking individual and had no weapons 
of any kind in sight, but a close scrutiny revealed the fact that 
he had a particularly evil eye in his sandy-freckled face. One 
of the Mounties picked him out unerringly and tapped him on 
the shoulder. 

'"Gat Gardiner.^' he asked. 

"'No,' said the newcomer. 'My name is Davidson.' 

'* 'I happen to know you as Gat Gardiner,' insisted the police- 
man. 'Got any weapons on you.*^' 

"'Leave go of me,' flared the so-called Davidson, all the 
veneer of civihty gone. 'You got nothing on me. Let go, I 
say!' 

"'I've got something on you,' declared the policeman, haul- 
ing a revolver from the hip pocket of the man. 'Carrying con- 
cealed weapons is against the law on this side the hne. Back 
on the boat, you, and don't you dare put foot ashore or I'll have 
you in jail. You go back the way you came.' 

"And Gardiner went. I saw him leaning over the rail when 
the boat started on the return trip and he shook his fist at the 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 189 

policeman on the wharf and emitted a string of vile oaths. But 
he never came back. 

"When the notorious 'Soapy' Smith was killed at Skagway, 
Alaska, his gang of desperadoes was promptly broken up and 
word came to Dawson that some of them were headed for 
the Canadian side. They were gathered in as soon as they 
crossed the line, denuded of weapons, and sent back. Not one 
of the gang eluded the vigilance of the police. 

"The law against carrying concealed weapons was a big 
factor in keeping the peace. Comparatively few men took 
advantage of their legal right to carry a revolver in sight. I 
remember seeing an open box in a pawnshop containing the 
most amazing collection of weapons I had ever set eyes on — 
revolvers with silver handles, pistols of carved ivory, anti- 
quated breech-loaders, weapons of fantastic design, and, prob- 
ably, of equally fantastic history, strange implements of death 
that had come from all climes and bespoke adventures on all 
the seven seas. 

'"Where did you get the lot.^' I asked the proprietor. 

" 'They all sell their shooting irons. No use for them here. 
I get 'em for practically nothing. Help yourself if you have 
any fancy that way. I'll make you a present of anything you 
want.' 

"So much for the wild Yukon of the novelists! Instead of 
lurching into the dance hall and blazing away at the ceiling, 
picture the 'old-timer', the hgo-dened miner of a hundred camps, 
planking down his pistols on the counter of the pawnshop and 
asking 'How much.^' That's the truer picture." 

As part of my boyhood education was derived from the study 
of American illustrated magazines, I was led by those periodi- 
cals to believe that the North American wilderness was in- 
habited by wild and wooUy men bedecked with firearms, and 
ever since I have been on the lookout for just such characters. 
Now while I cannot speak for the Western States, I can at least 



190 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

speak for Canada; and I must now admit that, during my thirty- 
three years of contact with wilderness life, on one occasion — 
but on one only — I found that there was justification for de- 
scribing the men of the northern wilderness as carrying firearms 
for protection. But does not the one exception prove the rule? 

It happened near Stewart, on the borderhne of Alaska, 
several years ago. I encomitered a prospector who wanted to 
cross Portland Canal from Alaska to Canada, and as I was 
rowing over, I offered to take him across. When, however, he 
turned to pick up his pack I caught sight of sometliing that 
fairly made me burst out laughing; for it was as funny a sight 
as though I had witnessed it on Piccadilly or Broadway. At 
first I thought he was a movie actor who, in some unaccount- 
able way, had strayed from Los Angeles and become lost in 
the northern wilderness before he had had time to remove his 
ridiculous "make-up"; but a moment later he proved beyond 
doubt that he was not an actor, for he blushed scarlet when he 
observed that I was focussing a regular Mutt-and-Jeff dotted- 
line stare at a revolver that hung from his belt, and he faltered: 

"But . . . Why themirth.»" 

"Well, old man," I laughed again, "for over twenty-five 
years I have been roaming the Canadian wilderness from the 
borderhne of Maine right up here to Alaska, and in all that 
time — with the exception of the Constables of the North- West 
Mounted Pohce — ^you are the first man, woman, or child, I 
have seen carrying a revolver. And I swear, old dear, that 
that's the truth. So now, do you wonder that I laugh.^" 

RECORD TRAVELLING 

But to return to the Hudson's Bay Company's packet sys- 
tem, I asked Chief Factor Thompson: 

"Which is the more important, the summer or the winter 
mail.3" 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 191 

"Oh, the winter; for, when inward bound, it bears the 
Commissioner's instructions to the district chief factors; and, 
when outward bound, it contains information regarding the 
results and the progress of the fur-trade, and orders for addi- 
tional supplies." 

"How many miles a day do the packeteers average on their 
winter trips?" 

"Well," rephed the Chief Factor, "I think the rate of speed 
maintained by our packeteers is remarkable; especially when 
one considers the roughness of the country, the hardships of 
winter travel, the fact that the men must make their bread, 
cook their meals, care for their dogs, and, when on the trail, 
cannot even quench their thirst without halting to build a fire 
and melt snow. Yet the packeteers of the Mackenzie River 
mail cover their two thousand miles on snowshoes at an average 
rate of twenty-seven and a half miles a day, including all 
stoppages." 

"That is certainly splendid travelling. Some of the packe- 
teers, I should judge, have made great records; haven't they?" 

"Yes, that's true," acknowledged the trader, "the packe- 
teers do make great efforts to break records between posts. 
But, though they may have succeeded in cutting down the 
time, their achievement is never mentioned on the way-bill, 
nor does it affect the time allowed for the completion of the 
trip; for, though the mail be brought in ahead of time, it is 
never handed over to the relay imtil the appointed hour has 
struck. Otherwise, the whole system would be thrown out of 
gear. Exceptionally fast runs are not shown upon the way- 
bills, because they would eventually affect the average time 
allowed for the trip; and in stormy weather that would be 
hard upon the packeteers. The time allowed for the transmis- 
sion of a packet is calculated on a ten-years' average. No ex- 
cuse for delay, except death, is tolerated. At each post on 
certain fixed dates relays of men and dogs are kept in readiness 



192 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

to forward the mail without delay. A through way-bill ac- 
companies every packet from point of departure to point of 
delivery. At each post along the route the time of arrival 
and the time of departure of the mail must be entered upon 
the way-bill, as well as the names of the packeteers and of the 
officers in charge." 

"I understand that packets contain not only the despatches 
of the Company, but the private mail of the employees, that 
of missionaries of all denominations, that of chance 'explor- 
ers' or travellers, and even that of opposition fur-traders. Is 
thatafact.^" 

"Yes, sir, and moreover, no charge is made by the Company." 

"Do the Company's officers experience much trouble in 
procuring men to act as packeteers.*^" 

"Oh, no; none whatever. As a rule, when men enter the 
Company's service, they stipulate that they shall be given a 
place on the packet; for that affords them an opportunity to 
pay a visit to the next post, and to join in the dance which is 
always held on the arrival of the mail. Trippers consider 
themselves greatly honoured on being given charge of a packet; 
for it means that they are held to be trustworthy, and thor- 
oughly famihar with the topography of the district." 

"Before the advent of the railroad and the steamboat, 
which was the longest of the Company's packet routes?" 

"By all odds that of the Yukon packet. It made the journey 
from Montreal to Fort Yukon, which was then situated at the 
junction of the Porcupine and Yukon rivers. It was routed 
by way of the Ottawa River, Lake Huron, Lake Superior, 
Lake of the Woods, Lake Winnipeg, the Athabasca River, 
the Slave River, and the Mackenzie River. It was forwarded 
in summer by canoe, in winter by dog-train, for the enormous 
distance of four thousand five hundred miles. And let me tell 
you, it is to-day, as it was two hundred years ago, the pride 
of the Company's people that not one packet was ever lost 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 193 

beyond recovery. Packeteers have been drowned, frozen, 
burned, shot, smothered, and even eaten; but the packet has 
always reached its destination somehow." 

BEAR HOLDS UP MAIL 

A sudden burst of laughter from the men at a neighbouring 
fire attracted the attention of Chief Factor Thompson, and 
glancing over, he remarked to me: 

"TeUing yarns, eh! Let's go over and hsten." 

Twelve or fifteen men were crowded round that fire — in- 
cluding Factor Mackenzie, the Rev. Mr. Wilson, Father Jois, 
and Oo-koo-hoo — and they were now coaxing "Old Billy 
Brass" to tell the next story. He was a wiry httle white man 
of about sixty who had seen much service in the Hudson's Bay 
Company. He hesitated. They clamoured again, and he 
began: 

"But talkin' 'bout bears reminds me of a little afl'air I once 
had on the Peace River," said the old man, glancing slyly from 
the corner of his eye to see what efl'ect his statement made 
upon his campfire companions. Billy was sitting cross-legged 
upon his caribou robe; and, as he turned the browning bannocks 
before the fire, he continued : 

"Well, as I was sayin', me an' Old-pot-head's son once had 
a go with a great big black bear away up on the Peace River. 
But, don't you forget it, Billy Brass didn't lose the packet." 

"Come, Billy, tell us all about it," coaxed the Chief Factor, 
well knowing that if he were once started there would be on his 
part httle need of urging in order to extract from the old tripper 
all he knew, or could invent to suit the occasion. 

"Well, gentlemen, if you ain't too sleepy, an' if some o' 
you boys'll watch the bannock, I don't mind teUin'," replied 
Billy as he leaned toward the fire, picked up a red-hot coal, 
and palmed it into his pipe. 



194 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

"But I can't give a funny bear story, the same as youVe 
been tellin', because all my experiences with bears have been 
mighty serious. However, I'll try and tell you 'bout me an 
Old-pot-head's son ; an' to my mind it's the most serious of 'em 
all. 

"As I was sayin', we was in charge of the Peace River 
packet; an' if it hadn't been for the charm Father La MOle 
blessed for me at Fort Good Hope, I don't know 's I'd be here 
to tell about it. 

"Anyway, me an' Old-pot-head's son was carryin' the 
packet and headin' for Hudson's Hope. It was the fall packet, 
an' — as winter was just about due — we was husthn' 'long for 
all we was worth, an' jabbin' holes in the river with our paddles 
as fast as we could, in fear o' the freeze up 

"As bad lack would have it, that very night the ice over- 
took us, an' we had to leave the canoe ashore an' finish the 
voyage afoot. Lucky for us, we was only about three-days' 
travel from the Fort, so we leaves our axe an' whatever we 
don't particular need with the canoe. 

"Mile after mile we walks along the river bank; an' as we 
don't have no extra moccasins, our bare skin was soon upon the 
sand. What with havin' our duds torn by bushes, an' our 
fallin' in the mud once or twice, and several times a-wadin' 
creeks, we was a pretty sight when we stops to camp that 
night. When the sun went down, we was so tired that we just 
stopped dead in our tracks. We had been packin' our blank- 
ets, our grub, an' cookin' gear to say nothin' o' the packet; so, 
of course, we didn't give much thought to the campin' ground. 
But after supper I looks round an' sees that we'd made our 
fire down in a little hollow, an' that the place was bare o' trees 
'ception three that stood in a row 'bout four lengths of a three- 
fathom canoe from our fire. The middle one was a birch with 
a long bare trunk, an' on each side stood a pine. Now, I 
want you gentlemen to pay perticler 'tention to just how they 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 195 

stood; for them three trees is goin' to do a mighty lot o' fig- 
gerin' in this here story. 

"As I was sayin', there was two pines with a birch in between, 
an' all standin' in a row, with the upper branches o' pines 
rmmin' square in among the branches o' the birch. 'Bout 
haK ways between the birch and the east pine, but a trifle off 
the hne, was a pool o' water. Before I turns in for the night, 
I takes the packet an' sticks it on the end of a long pole, an' 
shoves it up against the birch tree, for fear o' the fire spreadin' 
an' burnin' up the mail. 

"Me an' Old-pot-head's son turns in an' sleeps as sound as 
any trippers could. Some time in the night I wakes up with 
a mighty start that almost busts me heart. Somethin' was 
maulin' me. So, with me head still under the blanket, for I 
dassn't peep out, I sings out to the Injun an' asks him what in 
creation he's kickin' me for; an' if he couldn't wake me with- 
out killin' me. Old-pot-head's son yells back that he hasn't 
touched me. Then you bet I was scared; for the thing hauls 
off agen an' gives me a clout that knocks the wind plum' out o' 
me. 

"Just then I heard Old-pot-head's son shout, 'Keep still, 
Bill, it's a big black bear.' I grabs the edges o' me blanket an' 
pulls 'em in under me so hard I thinks I've bust it. But the 
bear keeps on mauhn' me, an' givin' me such hard swats that 
I began to fear it'd cave in me ribs." 

"But, Billy, why didn't you shoot it.^^" asked the Reverend 
Mr. Wilson. 

"Shoot.^* Why, your reverence, don't you know, packeteers 
never carries a gun.^" the old man exclaimed with disgust, and 
then continued his story : 

"Not content with that, the brute starts to roll me over an' 
over. An' all the time I'm doin' me best to play dead. Now 
you needn't laff. I'd hke to see any o' youse pretendin' you 
was dead while a big bear was poundin' you that hard that you 



196 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

begin to believe you ain't shammin'. An' when that ugly brute 
hauls off an' hits me agen, I decides then an' there that there's 
no occasion to sham it. But just as soon as I makes up my 
mind I'm dead, the bear leaves me; an' when I can no longer 
hear him breathin', I peeps out of a tiny little hole, and sees the 
big brute maulin' me old friend the Injun. Then I takes an- 
other peep roun', an' don't see no escape 'cept by way o' them 
three trees, so I just jumps up, an' lights out like greased 
lightnin' for the nearest tree. After me comes the bear 
gallopin'. I guess that was the quickest runnin' I ever 
done in all me life. I just managed to climb into the lower 
branches o' the west pine as the bear struck the trunk 
below me. 

"When I stops for breath in the upper branches, I sees the 
old bear canterin' back agen to have another go with me pard- 
ner. 

"Just as soon as I was safe, the whole performance struck me 
as bein' pretty funny, an' I couldn't help roarin' out and a- 
laffin' when I saw the beast maulin' Old-pot-head's son, an' 
him tryin' for all he was worth to play dead. 

"Thinks I, I'll make me old friend laff. So I starts in to 
guy him, an' he begins to snicker, an' that makes the bear mad, 
an' he begins to roll the Injun. Then, you bet, I couldn't 
make him laff no more; for, what with shammin' dead, an' bein' 
frightened to death into the bargain, I don't think there was 
much laff left in him. 

"You know how bears wiU act when they sometimes comes 
across a handy log.^ Well, that's just what the beast was doin' 
with Old-pot-head's son — it was rolUn' him over an' over. The 
very next second it rolls his feet into the fire. Down the tree 
I shd, like snow down a mountain, an' stood at the foot of it 
an' pelted the bear with stones. The Injun's blanket began to 
smoke. It was no lafiSn' matter, for I knowed if I didn't drive 
the brute off in a jiffy Old-pot-head's son would be a comin' 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 197 

out of his trance mighty sudden an' that meant a catch-as- 
catch-can with a great, big, crsizy black bear. 

"As good luck would have it, the next time I threw a stone, 
it landed on the tip of the bear's snout, an' with a snarl he 
comes for me. I waits as long as I dares, then up the tree I 
skips, with the brute follerin' me. About half ways up I 
thinks I hears a human bein' laffin' in the east pine. So I looks 
over, an' sure enuff, I sees me old pardner settin' on a limb an' 
fairly roarin'. All the same, I was feelin' mighty squeemish, for 
the bear was comin' up hckety splinter after me. 

"Just then I spies a good stout branch that reaches out close 
against a big limb of the birch, an' I crawls over. As the bear 
follers me, I slides down the trunk o' the birch, an' lights out 
for the east pine where me pardner was doin' the laffin'. On 
its way down the bear rammed itself right smack against the 
mail-bag; and when the beast struck ground, it smelt the man 
smell on the packet, an' began to gnaw it. 

"Now me an' Old-pot-head's son knowed well enuff we 
had to save the mail-sack, so I slips down the east pine a ways, 
an' breaks off dead branches, an' pelts them at the bear while 
the Injun crosses over into the top o' the west pine. Then we 
both at once slides down as low as we dares, an' I begins to lanun 
the brute with a shower o' sticks. Up the tree it comes for 
me, while me pardner slips down, grabs the mail-sack, an' sails 
up the west pine again. 

"That was a mighty clever move, thinks I, but a bag is an 
orkad thing to portage when you're meanderin' up an' down 
a tree with a bear after you. But the tump-line was on it, 
just as we carried it the day before, so it wasn't as bad as it 
might 'a' been. 

"Well, when I went up the east pine, the bear foUered, an', 
as there wasn't any too much room between me an' the bear, 
I crosses over into the birch an' slides down its shppery trunk 
as tho' it was greased. I hits the ground a httle harder than 



198 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

I wanted to, but didn't waste no time in lightin' out for the 
west pine, where the Injun was restin' ; an' all the time the bear 
was tryin' to grab me coat-tails. 

" It was just a case of up to the west pine, cross over and down 
the birch ; then up the east pine, cross over an' down the birch ; 
then up the west pine, cross over an' down the birch, till we got 
so dizzy we could a hardly keep from fallin'. If you could 
just 'a' seen the way we tore roun' through them trees, I'll bet 
you would 'a' done a heap o' laffin'. 

"The bear was mighty spry in goin' up, but when it came to 
goin' down he'd just do the drop-an'-clutch, drop-an'-clutch 
act. That's just where me an' me pardner had the advantage 
on the brute; for we just swung our arms an' legs roun' that 
birch an' did the drop act, too; but, somehow, we hadn't time 
to do the clutch, so our coat-tails got badly crushed every time 
we landed. 

"It was a kind of go-as-you-please until about the tenth 
roun', when I accidentally drops the mail-bag on the bear's 
head, an' that makes him boilin' mad; so he lights out after us 
as tho' he had swallered a hornet's nest. 

"Then away we goes up an' down, up an' down, an' roun' 
an' roun' that perpendicular race track, until we made such a 
blur in the scen'ry that any fool with half an eye an' standin' half 
a mile away could 'a' seen a great big figger eight layin' on its 
side in the middle o' the landscape. We took turns at carryin' 
the packet, but sometimes I noticed Old-pot-head's son was 
havin' a good deal of trouble with it. It didn't seem to bother 
him much when he was climbin' up; for he just swung it on his 
back with the loop o' the tump-line over his head, an' so he had 
his hands free. But it was when he was comin' down the 
slippery birch that the weight of the bag made him rather more 
rapid than he wanted to be; an' so, when he an' the bag struck 
groun', they nearly always bounced apart; an' if the Injun 
failed to get his feet in time to ketch the sack on the first bounce, 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 199 

I ketched it on the second bounce as I glode by. So between 
the two of us we managed to hang on to the packet. 

"By-an'-by, we was gettin' terribly tuckered out. It was a 
good thing for us that the bear was gettin' winded an' dizzy 
as well; because, at about the sixty-seventh roun', the brute 
had no sooner gone down the birch than he bounded up agen 
just when Old-pot-head's son was a-climbin' thro' the upper 
branches o' the birch. So he shps over into the top o' the 
east pine, while I stays in the top o' the west pine, an' the bear 
sits down in a upper crotch o' the birch. 

"Well, we puts in a good many heats of anywhere from 
twenty-five to seventy-five laps roun' that track by the time 
daylight comes, an' sunrise finds us all ketching our wind in 
the upper branches. I noticed that whenever the brute wanted 
to stop the whirhgig it always climbed up the birch just in time 
to separate me an' me pardner; an' there we would sit, me in 
the west pine, me pardner in the east pine, an' the black brute 
right in between. 

"About breakfast time me an' the Injun was feelin' mighty 
hungry. There we sat cussin' our luck an' castin' longin' 
glances down at the grub bag. By the time I'd caught mc 
wind a great idea strikes me. Durin' the next heat I would 
rush out. So I sings out my intentions to me pardner; an' he 
says he thinks we can do it. So while he was carryin' Her 
Majesty's mail I was to try an' grab the grub bag. 

"We got ready, an' dropped down them pines so fast that 
we both hits groun' before the bear knows what's doin'. Then 
I leaves that tree like as if all the am'mals in the woods was after 
me. I got on so much speed that by the time I grabs the grub 
bag I was goin' so fast that I couldn't turn roun' without 
slackin' down. That's where I loses a terrible amount o' time, 
an' I was beginnin' to think it was all up with me. By the time 
I got headed roun' agen for the tree, I sees that the bear is 
comin' down with his back to me. When he hits groun' he sees 



200 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

the Injun dancin' roun' the foot o' the west pine; so he 
makes for the redskin, an' chases him up while I chmbs the 
east pine. 

"Then we all went roun' an' roun' for maybe fifty laps, an' 
the way we wore the bark off them trees an' trod down the 
grass between 'em was a caution. By-an'-by the bear gets so 
dizzy that he bucks up the birch agen, an' sure enuff that stops 
the performance. 

"I didn't need any breakfast bell to remind me to open the 
grub bag. I just reaches in an' pulls out some busted bannock 
an' throws a chunk over to Old-pot-head's son, an' without even 
say in' grace, we starts in. Every little while I'd toss another 
chunk of bread over to me pardner an' just out o' sheer spite 
I'd chuck it so that it would go sailin' thro' the air right in 
front o' the bear's snout. That makes him mad. So he tried 
to catch the stuff as it flies by; but I just puts on a little more 
curve, an' that makes him madder stiU, an' he ups an' comes for 
me. 

"Then we all knocks off breakfast an' goes for another 
canter. But it don't do no good, 'ceptin' that we all gets puffed 
out agen. After a bit, the bear stops to ketch his breath, an' 
then me an' me pardner goes on with our breakfast. 

"With the bear exercisin' us the way he did, we had to take 
our breakfast in a good many courses. That makes it so long 
drawn out that we gets mighty thirsty. The Injun asks me if 
the cups is in the grub bag. I puts me han' in an' feels, but 
they ain't there. Then I remembers that we left them down 
by the fire. We didn't either of us care to risk snakin' a cup, 
so I tells me pardner that the next time we goes roun' we'd best 
try an' grab a handful o' water. We didn't have long to wait, 
for the bear soon gets another move on; an' then away we all 
goes sailin' roun' agen. Every time me an' the Injun canters 
past the pool, we just makes a sudden dip an' grabs up a hand- 
ful o' water an' throws it in. 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 201 

" It took so much exercise to get so little water that I thought 
I'd die of thirst while I was tryin' to drink me fill. When the 
bear caught on to what we was doin', it just made him madder 
an' madder; an' he lights out after us at such a breathless clip 
that we had to fairly gallop up them pines, an' slide down the 
birch faster than ever. It wasn't long before nearly every 
button was wore off, an' our clothes was so ripped up an' torn 
down that I'd blush every time I'd ketch the bear lookin' at me. 
An' every time we ran 'long the groun' from one tree to another, 
me an' me pardner had to use both hands on our garments in 
order to keep up our — er — respectability. However, the bear 
didn't have the laff on us altogether, for he had gone up an' 
down them trees so often an' so fast that he had worn all the 
hair off his stomach. 

"After a while we all gets tuckered out agen; an' while 
we rests in the trees me an' me pardner talks about the weather, 
lettin' on that there ain't no bear anywheres nigh. So the time 
passed. As we didn't recollect just how much grub we had at 
the start, or how much water there was in the pool first ofl, we 
couldn't for the hfe of us reckon just how long we'd been there. 
Neither me nor Old-pot-head's son would care to take our oaths 
whether we'd been there a night an' half a day, or half a dozen 
nights an' days; the night time an' the day time was so mixed up 
together that we hadn't time to separate 'em. We were sure, 
tho', that our grub was givin' out, the water was dryin' up, an' 
death was get tin' good an' ready for us. 

"We was in such a terrible tight place that I begins to think 
o' takin' off me shirt an' flyin' it from the top o' the tallest pine 
as a signal o' distress; for we was worse off than if we'd been 
shipwrecked. Talk about bein' cast adrift on a raft! Why, it 
wasn't in it with bein' fixed the way we was. We just stayed 
in one spot with no chance of ever driftin' to'rds help. As 
long as the bear kept tab on us there wasn't no sign of our ever 
gettin' a wink o' sleep. And more, besides starvin' to death, 



202 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

we had to face bein' frozen; for our clothes was all wore off, 
an' winter was comin' on mighty fast. 

"At last, when me an' Old-pot-head's son had about given 
up hope, an' was just pickin' out which would be the easiest 
death, what should we see but somethin' bobbin' in an' out 
among the bushes. Say, it was another bear! When it comes 
a little closer, we makes out it was a little lady bear. No sooner 
does our old stern-chaser spy her than he slides down to the 
groun', an' risin' up on his hind legs, throws out his chest, an' 
cocks his eye at her, for all the world like a man when he sees 
a pretty girl comin' his way. But when her dainty little lady- 
ship ketches sight of his bald-headed stomach, she just tosses 
up her nose with disgust, an' wheels roun' an' makes for the 
teJl timbers with our affectionate friend limpin' the best he 
can after her. 

"An' that's the last we sees o' the bear that tried to hold 
up the Company's packet." 

After the laughter had died down, Chief Factor Thompson 
yawned : 

"Well, gentlemen, it's getting on. I must be turning in 
or my men will be late in getting under way in the morning." 

GOD AND THE WUJD MEN 

Drowsiness had indeed overtaken the camp. But now I 
must digress a moment to tell you something that the public — 
at least the public that has derived its knowledge of northern 
wilderness life from fiction — may find it hard to believe. And 
this is what I want to say : that every one in that whole brigade 
of wild men of the wilderness, from the lowest dog-driver right 
up to the Chief Factor — when each had fixed his bed in readi- 
ness for the night — knelt down, and with bowed head, said his 
evening prayer to The Master of Life. Moreover, the fact that 
two clergymen were present had nothing whatever to do with it. 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 203 

for the "barbarians" of the forest would have done just the 
same had no priest been there — just as I have seen them do 
scores and scores of times. In fact, in some sections of the 
forest the native wilderness man — red, white, or half-breed — 
who does not, is not the rule, but the exception. Then, too — 
unless one's ears are closed to such sounds — one may oc- 
casionally hear the voyageurs of the "North canoe" and the 
*'York boat" brigades, while straining on the tracking line, 
singing, among other hymns : 

Onward, Christian soldiers, 

Marching as to war. 
With the Cross of Jesus, 

Going on before. 

And, furthermore, I wonder if the fiction-reading public will 
believe that the majority of the men in the fur brigades always 
partake of the holy sacrament before departing upon their 
voyages? Nevertheless, it is the truth — though of course 
truth does not agree with the orgies of gun-play that spring 
from the weird imaginations of the stay-at-home authors, who, 
in their wild fancy, people the wilderness with characters from 
the putrescence of civilization. It is time these authors were 
enlightened, for a man, native to the wilderness, is a better 
man . . . more honest, more chivalrous, more generous, 
and — at heart, though he talks less about it — more God- 
respecting . . . than the man born in the city. That is 
something the public should never forget; for if the public re- 
members that, then the authors of wilderness stories will 
soon have to change their discordant tune. 

Yes, it is true, every one of those wild men said his evening 
prayer and then, with his blanket wrapped about him, lay down 
upon his thick, springy mattress of fir-brush, with his feet 
toward the fire, and slmnbered as only a decent, hard-working 



204 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

man can. Out among the dancing shadows that flitted 
among the snow-mantled bushes and heavily laden trees a 
hundred and fifty eyes glared in the brooding darkness — as 
though all the wolves in the forest were gathering there. Later, 
when the sound of heavy breathing was heard roimd the fires, 
a fierce, wolfish-looking dog, bolder than the rest, left its snowy 
bed to hunt for more sheltered quarters. There was a whine, 
a snarl, then the sound of clashing teeth. In a moment every 
dog leaped up with bristling hair. Instantly bedlam reigned. 
Over seventy dogs waged the wildest kind of war and the dis- 
tant woods reechoed the horrible din. A dozen blanketed 
mounds rose up, and many long lashes whistled through the 
air. The seething mass broke away and flew howhng and 
yelping into outer darkness followed by a roar of curses — but 
only in civilized tongues. 

Presently all was stiU again. The men lay down, and the 
dogs, one by one, came slinking back to their resting places. 
But in a couple of hours one of the half-frozen brutes silently 
rose up, cautiously stepped among the sleeping men, and lay 
couched close to a smouldering fire. Another followed and 
then another until most of the dogs had left their beds. Grow- 
ing bolder, a couple of the beasts fought for a warmer spot. 
In their tussle they sprawled over one of the men, but a few 
lusty blows from a handy frying-pan restored cahn. As the 
night wore on some of the dogs, not contented with sleeping 
beside the men, curled up on top of their unconscious masters. 
Then for hours nothing but the heavy breathing and snoring 
in camp and the howling of distant wolves was heard. Slum- 
ber had at last overtaken the ^ild men of the wilderness — who 
always made it a rule to kneel down every night, and ask God 
to bless their little children at home. 

Now, though time still sped on, silence possessed the 
forest — until : 

"Hurrah, mes bons hommes! Levey, levey, levey! Up, up 



MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 205 

up, up, up!" ending in a shrill yell from the guide startled the 
drowsy crew. It was three o'clock in the morning. Had it not 
been for the brilhancy of the Northern Lights all would have 
been in darkness. An obscure form bent over an ash-bed and 
fumbled something. A tiny blaze appeared and rapidly grew 
until the surrounding forest was aflare. Over the fires frying- 
pans sizzled, while tea-pails heaped with snow began to steam. 
A hurried breakfast followed. The sleds were packed. The 
dogs, still curled up in the snow, pretended to be asleep. 

"Caesar! Tigre! Cabri! Whiskey! Tete Noire! Pilot! 
Michinass! Coffee! Bull! Brandie! Caribou !" shouted the 
men. A few of the dogs answered to their names and came to 
harness while some holding back were tugged forward by the 
scruff of the neck. Others were still in hiding. The men 
searched among the mounds and bushes. Every now and then 
the crack of a whip and the yelp of a dog announced the finding 
of a truant. Two trackers on large snowshoes had already 
gone ahead to break the trail. It was easy to follow their tracks 
though the woods were still in darkness and remained so for 
several hours. At dawn Oo-koo-hoo and our httle outfit parted 
company with the Dog Brigade. Already the packet was 
many miles ahead. As I turned on my western way, I thought 
of the work of these postmen of the wilderness, of the hardships 
they endured, and the perils they braved; and the Chief 
Factor's assertion that no packet had ever been lost beyond 
recovery, recalled to mind other stories that were worth re- 
membering: For instance, a canoe express was descending the 
Mackenzie River; the canoe was smashed in an ice jam, and 
the packeteers were drowned. A few weeks later passing 
Indians caught sight of a stick bobbing in the surface of the 
stream. Though the water was deep and the current was 
running at the rate of three miles an hour, the stick remained 
in the same place. So the Indians paddled over to investi- 
gate. They found that to the floating stick was fastened a 



206 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

long thong, which on being pulled up brought the missing 
packet to light. 

Again, while making camp near the Athabasca River, the 
packeteers had slung the packet in a tree, the usual place 
for it while in camp. During the night their fire spread and 
burned up the whole equipment except the tree, which, being 
green, received httle more than a scorching. The packet was 
unharmed. 

On Great Slave Lake during a fierce snowstorm the packe- 
teers became separated from their dogs, and were frozen to 
death. But the packet was recovered. 

In one autumn two packeteers journeying from George's 
River Post to Ungava Post drew up their canoe on a sandy 
beach, and camped beneath a high, overhanging bank. During 
the night the bank gave way and buried them as they slept. 
When the ice formed, the trader at Ungava sent out two men 
to search for the missing packet. They found the canoe on the 
beach; and from the appearance of the bank, conjectured what 
had happened. Next spring the landslide was dug into, and 
the packeteers were found both lying under the same blanket, 
their heads resting upon the packet. 



VI 
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 

WOLVERINE AND HUNTER 

One evening, while sitting before the fire in Oo-koo-hoo's 
lodge, we heard sounds that told us that Amik had returned, 
and presently he entered the tepee, full of wrath over the havoc 
a wolverine had wrought along his trapping path. The pelts 
of more dead game had been ruined; deadfalls had been broken; 
and even some of his steel traps had been carried away. There 
and then Oo-koo-hoo decV' d that he would drop all other work 
and hunt the marauder 

For its size — being about three feet in length and from 
twelve to eighteen inches high — the wolverine is an amazingly 
powerful creature. In appearance it somewhat resembles a 
small brown bear. Though it is not a fast traveller its 
home range may cover anywhere from five to fifty miles. It 
feeds upon all sorts of small game, and has been known to kill 
even deer. It mates about the end of March, dens in any 
convenient earthen hole or rocky crevice or cave that may 
afford suitable shelter; and it makes its bed of dry leaves, grass, 
or moss. The young, which number from three to five, are born 
in June. Whenever necessary, the mother strives desperately 
to protect her young, and is so formidable a fighter that 
even though the hunter may be armed with a gun, he runs 
considerable risk of being injured by the brute. It has been 
known to take possession of the carcass even of a caribou and 
to stand off the hunter who had just shot it. Also, it has been 
known to drive a wolf, and even a bear, away from their quarry. 

207 



208 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

The superstitious Indian not only believes that the wolverine 
is possessed of the devil — for it is the most destructive animal 
in the northern world — but he considers it also to be endowed 
with great intelligence. The wily Indian, however, knowing 
the animal's habit of trying to destroy what it cannot carry 
away, takes advantage of that very fact and hunts it ac- 
cordingly. 

All that has been said in relation to trapping the fox apphes 
also to le Carcajou — i. e., the wolverine — save that the trap chain 
should be doubled, and everything else made stronger and 
heavier in proportion to the wolverine's greater size and 
strength. That evening Oo-koo-hoo talked much of wolverines. 

"My son, no other animal siu-passes it in devihsh cunning. 
For it is not content to merely spring a trap, but it will carry 
it away — more often for a short distance, but sometimes for 
miles — and hide or bury it. Later ^n the wolverine may visit 
it again, carry it still farther awa^ nd bm-y it once more. 
The wolverine has good teeth for cutting wood, and will some- 
times free a trap from its clog by gnawing the pole in two. My 
son, I have even known a wolverine go to the trouble of digging 
a hole in which to bury a trap of mine; but just in order to fool 
me, the beast has filled up the hole again, carried the trap to 
another place, and there finally buried it. But as a good 
hunter is very observant, he is seldom fooled that way, for the 
wolverine, having very short legs, has difficulty in keeping both 
the chain and the trap from leaving tell-tale marks in the snow. 

"Yes, my son, the wolverine is a very knowing brute, and if 
he thinks he may be trailed, he will sometimes — without the 
slightest sign of premeditation — ^jump sideways over a bush, a 
log, or a rock, in order to begin, out of sight of any trailer, a new 
trail ; or he may make a great spring to gain a tree, and ascend 
it without even leaving the evidence of freshly fallen bark. 
Then, too, he may climb from tree to tree, by way of the 
interlocking branches, for a distance of a hundred paces or more. 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 209 

aU the while carrying the trap with him. Then, descending to 
the ground, he may travel for a considerable distance before 
eventually burying the trap. I have known him even leave a 
trap in a tree, but in that case it was not done from design, for 
signs proved that the chain had been caught upon a branch." 

"How many wolverines," I asked, "do you suppose are caus- 
ing all the trouble on your and Amik's trapping paths .'^" 

"Only one, my son, for even one wolverine can destroy traps 
and game for twenty or thirty miles around; and the reason 
the brute is so persistent in following a hunter's fur path is 
that it usually affords the wolverine an abundance of food. 
Then, when the hunter finds the brute is bent on steady mis- 
chief, it is time for him to turn from aU other work and hunt 
the thief. If at first steel traps fail, he may build special dead- 
falls, often only as decoys round which to set, unseen, more steel 
traps in wait for the marauder. 

"If a hunter stiU fails, he may sit up all night in wait for 
the robber, knowing that the more stormy the night, the 
better his chance of shooting the brute. Sometimes, too, I 
have found a wolverine so hard to catch that I have resorted 
to setting traps in the ashes of my dead fires, or beneath the 
brush I have used for my bed, while camping upon my trap- 
ping path." Then he added with a twinkle about his eye and a 
shake of his finger : "But, my son, I have another way and I am 
going to try it before the moon grows much older." 

I asked him to explain, but he only laughed knowingly, so I 
turned the subject by asking: 

"Does an animal ever eat the bait after it is caught .»^" 

"No, my son, no animal ever does that, not even if it be 
starving, but it may eat snow to quench its thirst. Animals, 
however, do not often starve to death when caught in traps, 
but if the weather be very severe, they may freeze in a single 
night. If, however, the beast is still ahve when the hunter 
arrives, the prisoner will in most cases feign death in the hope 



210 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

of getting free. That is true of most animals, and, fm-thermore, 
it will feign death even when other animals approach; but then, 
more often, its purpose is to secure the advantage of making a 
sudden or surprise attack." 

An Indian named Larzie, who was engaged to hunt meat 
for the priests at Fort Resolution, once came upon a wolverine 
in one of his traps that had done that very thing and won the 
battle, too. The snow, the trap, and the carcass of a wolf, 
silently told Larzie every detail of the fight. The wolverine, 
having been caught by the left hind leg, had attempted by 
many means to escape, even trying to remove the nuts from the 
steel trap with its teeth, as well as trying to break the steel 
chain, and gnaw in two the wooden clog to which the trap was 
fastened. But before accomplishing this, the wolverine had 
spied a pack of five wolves approaching. In an effort to save 
its life the wolverine worked itself down low in the snow and 
there lay, feigning death. The cautious wolves, on sighting the 
wolverine, began circhng about, each time drawing a httle 
nearer. Still suspicious, they sat down to watch the wolverine 
for a while. Then they circled again, sat down once more, and 
perhaps did a little howling, too. Then they circled again, each 
time coming closer, until at last, feehng quite sure the wolverine 
was dead, one of the wolves, in a careless way, ventured too 
near. No doubt it was then that the wolverine, peeping 
through his almost closed eyelids, had seen liis chance — that 
the nearest wolf was now not only within reach, but off guard, 
too — for the snow gave evidence of a sudden spring. The 
wolverine had landed upon the back of the wolf, clung on with 
his powerful forelegs, and not only ripped away at the wolf's 
belly with the long, sharp claws of his free hind foot, but 
with his terrible jaws had seized the wolf by the neck and 
chewed away at the spinal cord. Then, no doubt, the other 
wolves, seeing their comrade overpowered and done to death, 
had turned away and left the scene of battle. Later, Larzie 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 211 

had arrived, and after killing the wolverine and skinning both 
the conquerer and the conquered, had lighted his pipe and 
leisurely read every detail of the story in that morning's issue 
of the forest publication called The Snow. 

Next morning, when I turned out before breakfast, I found 
that Oo-koo-hoo had left camp before dayhght; and half the 
afternoon passed before he returned. That evening he ex- 
plained that during the previous night, the thought of the 
wolverine having haunted him and spoilt his rest, he had 
decided on a certain plan, risen before dawn, and started upon 
the trail. Now he was full of the subject, and without my ask- 
ing, described what he had done. Securing a number of fish 
hooks — trout size — he had wired them together, enclosed them 
in the centre of a ball of grease which he had placed inside an old 
canvas bag, and fastened there with the aid of wires attached to 
the hooks. Then, carrying the bag to where he found fairly 
fresh wolverine signs, he had dropped it upon the trail as 
though it had accidentally fallen there. The wolverine, he 
explained, would probably at first attempt to carry away the 
bag, but on scenting the grease it would paw the bag about; 
then, upon discovering the opening, it would thrust its head 
inside, seize the ball of grease in its mouth, and start to pull it 
out. "If that should happen," commented Oo-koo-hoo, 
"the wolverine would never leave that spot alive; it would 
just lie there and wait for me to come and knock it on the 
head." 

But now at last — as later events proved — Oo-koo-hoo, the 
great hunter, had encountered his match. Now it was no 
longer an unequal contest, for now two could play at cunning — 
especially when both were masters at the game. Three times 
The Owl visited his latest wolverine trap, only to learn that 
twice the brute had inspected it and spurned it, for its tracks 
proved that caution had kept the animal more than five feet 
away. Later, as the winter wore on, the subject of wolverines 



212 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

was rarely mentioned as it did not add to the cheerfulness of 
Oo-koo-hoo*s otherwise happy mood. 

THE BEST FOOT-GEAR 

About a week later, with a few days' outfit loaded upon our 
sled, Oo-koo-hoo and I were heading first for the Moose Hills 
where we were to hunt moose, and if successful, to cache the 
meat where Granny and the boys could find it; then continuing 
farther north we were to call upon The Owl's sister to dehver 
her a present from the children of Oo-koo-hoo. In the meantime, 
Amik had gone upon one of his trapping paths, and the boys 
were off to a swampy region to examine deadfalls set for mink 
and fisher. The boys had taken the dogs with them. 

It was a fine, cold, sunny morning when Oo-koo-hoo and I set 
out upon our hunt, and with every breath we seemed to be 
drinking aerial champagne that made us fairly tingle with the 
joy of hving — for such is the northern air in winter time. 
As we snowshoed along I felt thankful for the excellent 
socks with which the old hunter had provided me. On thelast 
hunt my snowshoe thongs had blistered my feet, but now, 
thanks to Oo-koo-hoo, I was shod with the most perfect foot- 
gear for winter travel I have ever known — a natural sock that 
was both bhster- and cold-proof. I had never heard of it before, 
but The Owl assured me that it had been long in fashion among 
the Indians. On each foot I was now wearing next my bare 
skin a rabbit pelt — minus legs and ears — put on, hair side out, 
while the skin was still green and damp, and then allowed to 
dry and shape itself to the foot. Over the rabbit pelts I wore 
my regular woollen socks, duffel neaps, and caribou-skin mitten 
moccasins. The pelts had been removed from the rabbits by 
simply cutting them between the hind legs, and then peehng 
them off inside out. With the inside of the skin next the foot 
blisters never form, nor does the hair wear off and ball up under 




'' There s the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to Winnipeg, 
a distance of seven hundred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs 
between Selkirk and Orford House, but between tlie latter post and 
York Factory it is hauled 6y men with toboggans. All mails in and 
out from Hudson Bay to or from the next post in the interior are 
hauled by men. Dogs are seldom used on those routes, on account 
of . . ." Si-e Chapter V 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 213 

the foot in such a way that it may hurt the wearer. Though 
the rabbit pelt is very tender and tears easily, it can be worn for 
five or six days of hard travel. For warmth and comfort it is 
unexcelled. 

Early that afternoon we came upon many lynx tracks, 
evidently there had been a "pass of lynxes" as the hunters 
call it, for lynxes have a way of gathering in bands of about four 
to eight and passing through the forest. Oo-koo-hoo stated 
that they migrated in that way from one region to another, 
covering many miles in search of game, especially during the 
years when the rabbit plague causes a great shortage of food ; 
and had he known of their presence in time, he would have cut 
big heaps of poplar, birch, and willow branches to attract the 
rabbits, and thus furnish more food for the lynxes. Hoping, 
however, that he was not too late, he set what few snares he 
had; nevertheless, he regretted that the boys had gone off 
with the dogs, for, if they had not, he would have tried to trail 
and tree the lynxes. 

The boys had taken the dogs because they wanted them 
to haul their sled. It was, however, against the advice of 
their grandfather, for he had admonished them that only 
white men and half-breeds would use dogs to haul a sled on a 
trapping path ; that a good hunter would never do such a foohsh 
thing, and for many reasons: the traps — being usually set 
close to the path — were apt to be either set off or destroyed by 
the swinging sled; besides, the dogs' tracks would obhterate 
the tracks of game; also the dogs might be caught in the traps; 
furthermore, the smell of dogs always inspired fear in animals, 
again, the noise of driving dogs frightened the game away. So, 
according to Oo-koo-hoo, the wise hunter either packs his load 
upon his back, or, by himseff, hauls it upon his sled. But one 
must remember that The Owl was an Ojibway and that those 
Indians as well as the Saulteaux Indians prefer to haul their 
own sleds on the hunting trail and to keep their dogs solely 



214 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

for trailing game; though all other Indians of the Strong Woods 
use their dogs for hauling sleds. One advantage of the Ojibway 
custom is that hunting dogs — when running loose — never have 
to be fed. 

Amik, however, being a rather shiftless fellow, often spoilt 
his boys as much as the average white father spoils his, for 
he never thrashed them, though they frequently deserved it, 
and having given in to them on many previous occasions, he 
had now let them take the dogs. But speaking of parents' 
treatment of children, even an old she-bear could give many a 
civihzed father or mother pointers on how to bring up children, 
for even among animals and birds one frequently finds a model 
parent. 

According to the verdict of the old fur- traders, the best 
trapper is the uncivilized Indian. Though, apparently, he 
does not derive the same amount of sport from his work as the 
white man does, he never shirks his work and always takes 
great pains to prepare for and perfect the setting of his traps. 
Though he is slow, he is, nevertheless, sure and deadly in his 
work. Oo-koo-hoo assured me that the secret of successful 
hunting was intelhgence, caution, and patience. 

During December and January, or according to the Indians, 
Yeyekoopewe Pesim — "The Rime Moon," and Kakisapowa- 
tukinum — "The Moon When Everything Is Brittle," there is 
always a lull in the trapping, for the reason that then the 
days are shorter and the weather colder, and on that account 
and also on accoimt of the fact that the sun and winds of March 
have not arrived to harden the deep soft snow, the forest 
creatures prefer to remain more at home. 

APPROACHING MOOSE 

In approaching the Moose Hills we saw many moose tracks, 
but they were old, the freshest having been made two days 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 215 

before. The age of these the hunter was able to detennine 
from the amount of newly fallen snow in the track, as well as 
from other conditions ; for he well remembered how much snow 
had fallen each day for the last week or two, when and which 
way the wind had blown, and when the sun was strong and the 
cold severe. Now selecting a two-day-old trail as the best 
for us to foUow, he decided to camp for the night, and we spent 
the interval between supper and bedtime discussmg not only 
the hunting of moose, but also their range and habits. 

The extreme range of a moose covers from five to ififteen 
miles. More often it is confined to a much smaller area that 
merely includes the low-lying river and lake valleys that afford 
him the choicest of summer food — the pineapple-like roots of 
waterlilies — and also affords him protection from flies while 
he is wading and delving for those very roots; and the 
higher lands among the hills, where he spends the winter in 
the denser forest. 

But it is in midsummer that we can study the moose with 
greatest ease, for then he spends the sunrises and sunsets 
wading among the lily pads, and if we are careful to observe the 
direction of the wind to guard against being scented, and also 
careful to cease paddling or any other motion before the big 
brute looks at us, we may, with the greatest ease and safety, 
propel our canoe to within from a hundred yards to fifty or 
forty feet of the great beast as he stands looking at us 
with raised head and dilating nostrils trying to catch our scent. 
If he catches it, he suddenly tosses his ponderous head, drops 
back shghtly on his hind legs as he swings round, and is off 
with a grmit. Nevertheless, he — or she — will pause long enough 
to leave the sign that all deer leave upon the ground when 
suddenly startled by — to them — the dreadful smell of human 
beings. Or if it happens to be moonhght and the moose is a 
bit mystified by the steady, but silent, scentless, and motionless 
approach of our canoe, he may at first stand gazing at us, then 



216 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

grunt at us, then back out of the water up on to the bank and 
there stand, not fifty feet away, towering above us — for he 
may measure from six to seven feet at the shoulder and 
weigh three quarters of a ton — shaking his great antlers and 
grunting, or perhaps, more properly speaking, barking at us 
while he stamps his big fore hoofs until he shakes the very 
river bank. 

How children love to take part in such sport! How they 
thrill over such an experience! Many a time I have taken 
them right up to even the largest of bulls until the httle tots 
could look into the very eyes of the greatest of all living deer. 
What fine httle hunters, too, they made, never speaking, not 
even in a whisper; never moving — save only their eyelids. 
In fact, I have been so close to wild moose that on one occasion 
I could have spanked a huge bull with my paddle. He was 
standing belly-deep in the river with his head under water, 
and so close did my canoe glide past him that I had to turn it 
to prevent it from running in between his hind legs. It was 
the sound of turning aside the canoe that brought his head up, 
and when he beheld the cause, he lunged forward and trotted 
away leaving a great wake of surging foam behind him. His 
head, crowned with massive antlers, was a ponderous affair. 
His body was as large as that of a Shire staUion and his back 
just as flat, while his legs were very much longer. He was 
the laigest moose I have ever seen — and yet, by leaning slightly 
toward him, I could have spanked him with my paddle! One 
such experience with a great, wild animal, is more adventure- 
some, more thrilling and more satisfactory, than the shooting 
of a hundred such creatures. It is more than the sport of kings 
— it is the sport of men of common sense. 

On another occasion, at Shahwandahgooze, in Quebec, 
in broad daylight, I paddled a friend of mine right in between 
three bulls and a cow, aud there we rested with moose on three 
sides of us. They were standing in a semicircle and no one of 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 217 

them was more than fifty paces away. They were unusually 
fine specimens and had the bulls been triplets they could not 
have been more ahke even to the detail of their antlers. The 
cow paid httle attention to us and went on feeding while the 
buUs, with heads held much higher than usual, stood as though 
in perfect pose for some sculptor. There wasn't a breath of 
wind and the wondrous spell must have lasted from eight to ten 
minutes; then a faint zephyr came and carried our tell-tale 
scent to them and they wheeled round and trotted away. Yet 
the head hunter from the city, who usually stands off at long 
range and fires at the first sight of game, will argue that killing 
is the greatest sport; when in truth it requires greater courage 
and greater skill to approach, unarmed, so close to game that 
one may touch it with a fish pole, and the reward is a much 
greater and a more satisfactory thrill than the head hunter 
ever gets from lying off at long range with a high-powered rifle 
and utterly destroying hfe. Furthermore, think of how much 
better one can study natural history by observing live animals 
in action, rather than motionless ones in death I An artist, in 
his eff'ort to render a perfect portrait of a human being, never 
murders his sitter, as the so-called "sportsman-naturahst" 
does. It seems to me that if sportsmen were more active, 
more skilful, and more courageous, they would give up slaugh- 
tering animals and birds for the sake of the unbounded pleasure 
and adventure of observing wild game at closer quarters; but in 
truth, long experience has taught me that the average hunter 
from the city is something of a coward — never daring to 
walk alone in the forest without his trusty, life-destroying 
machines. 

But if those same hunters would only take a little more 
interest in nature, pluck up a little more courage, and re- 
member that the wild animals of the northern forest are less 
vicious — when unmolested — than are many of the tame animals 
of civilization, how much more sane they would be. Re- 



218 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

member, it is much safer to approach the great bulls of the 
forest than it is to approach the smaller bulls of the farmers' 
fields. Likewise, when tramping along the rural road one runs 
a much greater chance of being bitten by the farmer's dog, than 
one does, when travelling through the forest, of being bitten by 
a wolf. Then, too, it is just the same of men, for the men of 
the cities are much more quarrelsome, dishonest, and evil- 
minded than are those of the wilderness, and that, no doubt, 
accounts for the endless slandering of the wilderness dwellers 
by fiction writers who live in towns, for those authors — never 
having lived in the wilderness — form their judgment of life, 
either as they have experienced it in cities or as they imagine 
it to be in the wilderness. 

THE OUTLAW AND NEW YORKER 

Now, in order to confirm my statement, I shall go to the very 
extreme and quote what Al Jennings, the notorious outlaw, says 
upon this very subject. The quotation is taken from Jen- 
nings' reminiscences of his prison days, when he and the late 
lamented William Sydney Porter — the afterward famous 
author 0. Henry — formed such a strong friendship. In the 
following dialogue Jennings is in New York City visiting Porter 
— whom he calls "Bill" — and Porter is speaking: 

"I have accepted an invitation for you. Colonel." He was 
in one of his gently sparkling moods. "Get into your armor 
asinorum, for we fare forth to make contest with tinsel and 
gauze. In other words, we mingle with the proletariat. We 
go to see Margaret Anghn and Henry Miller in that superb and 
reahstic Western libel, 'The Great Divide.' " 

After the play the great actress, Porter, and I, and one or two 
others were to have supper at the Breslin Hotel. I think Porter 
took me there that he might sit back and enjoy my unabashed 
criticisms to the young lady's face. 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 219 

"I feel greatly disappointed in you, Mr. Porter," Margaret 
Anglin said to Bill as we took our places at the table. 

"In what have I failed .►^" 

"You promised to bring your Western friend — that terrible 
Mr. Jennings — to criticize the play." 

"Well, I have introduced him." He waved his hand down 
toward me. 

Miss Anghn looked me over with the trace of a smile in her 
eye. 

"Pardon me," she said, "but I can hardly associate you 
with the lovely things they say of you. Did you like the 
play.^" 

I told her I didn't. It was mireal. No man of the West 
would shake dice for a lady in distress. The situation was un- 
heard of and could only occur in the imagination of a fat- 
headed Easterner who had never set his feet beyond the 
Hudson. 

Miss Anghn laughed merrily. "New York is wild over it; 
New York doesn't know any better." 

Porter sat back, an expansive smile spreading a light in his 
gray eyes. 

"I am inchned to agree with our friend," he offered. "The 
West is unacquainted with Manhattan chivalry." 

That is the truth in a sentence; and while 0. Henry and 
Jennings have spoken for the West, may I add my own exper- 
ience of wilderness men and say that the North, also, is unac- 
quainted with Manhattan chivalry. 

LAW AND ORDER ENFORCED 

Furthermore, while upon this subject, I wish to add to my 
own protest against the novehsts' wild dreams of outlawry in 
the Canadian wilderness, a quotation from E. Ward Smith's 
"Chronicles of the Klondyke." Mr. Smith — as you no doubt 



220 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

remember — was the first city clerk, treasurer, assessor, and tax 
collector of Dawson City; and this is what he says: 

" I want to say at the very outset that the Yukon was, in my 
opinion at least, one of the most orderly corners of the earth. 
Even in the early days of the boom, when miners and ad- 
venturers of all nationalities poured in, the sceiles of justice 
were held firmly and rigidly. The spell of the Mounted Police 
hung over the snow-bound land and checked the evil-doer. It 
may sound ridiculous when I assert that the Yukon — that 
gathering spot of so much of the scum of the earth — ^was better 
poHced than Winnipeg, or Toronto, or Halifax; but, neverthe- 
less, I beheve it to be a fact. 

"Of course, crimes were committed, some of which were 
never solved. Doubtless, also many deeds of violence occurred 
whose authors never came to hght. Rut, on the whole, life 
and property were surprisingly secure. One day I visited 
the cabin of my friend Lippy, who made a million or so upon 
El Dorado. The door was partly open, so, on receiving no 
response to my knock, I walked in. The cabin was empty. 
On the table was a five-gallon pail heaped high with glittering 
nuggets of gold ! I glanced around the place. On the shelves 
and rafters, on chairs and under bunks, were cans filled with 
gold. There was a snug fortune in sight. Any one could have 
slipped in and stolen the lot. I took Lippy to task about it 
when he came in. He did not seem at all concerned, however. 

"Pshaw," he said, "I always have quite a lot of gold about. 
Rut no one would steal it. Fve never lost anything." 

Rut as the Yukon and New York are a long way from where 
Oo-koo-hoo was hunting, let us return to his Moose Hills. 

THE WAYS OF THE MOOSE 

Moose mate in September and October, and during this 
period great battles between bulls frequently occur before the 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 221 

victor walks off with his hard-won spouse. The young — either 
one or two, but generally two after the mother's first experience 
— are born in May, in some secluded spot, and the calves soon 
begin to follow their mother about, and they follow her, too, 
into their second year. Horns begin to grow on the young 
bull before he is a year old, but they are mere knobs until he 
is a year and a half old, when spikes form; by the third year 
he is supplied with antlers. The perfect antlers of a big 
bull sometimes measure seventy inches across, yet every 
winter — in January or February — the horns are shed. During 
the mating season moose are frequently hunted by the method 
known as "calling. " The hunter, with the aid of a birch-bark 
megaphone, imitates the long-drawn call of the cow, to attract 
the bull. Then, when a bull answers with his guttural grunt of 
Oo-ah, Oo-ah, the Indian imitates that sound, too, to give the 
first bull the impression that a second is approaching, and thus 
provokes the first to hurry forward within range of the hunter's 
gun. But when the rutting season is over, the hunting is done 
by snaring or stalking or trailing. The moose derives its 
winter food principally from browsing upon hardwood twigs, 
and when the deep snows of midwinter arrive, he is generally to 
be found in a "yard" where such growth is most abundant. 

A moose yard is usually composed of a series of gutters from 
one foot to eighteen inches wide, intersecting one another at 
any distance from ten to fifty feet or more apart, and each 
gutter being punctured about every three feet with a post hole 
in which the moose steps as it walks. The space between the 
tracks is generally nothing but deep, soft snow, anywhere from 
three to five feet in depth. 

Beside the moose tracks that Oo-koo-hoo and I had seen that 
day was much silver birch and red willow, and from the signs of 
freshly cropped twigs we knew that the moose were not un- 
usually tall, and we knew, too, from the fact that the tracks were 
sharply defined as well as from their ordinary size and that they 



222 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

were not deeply impressed in the snow, that the moose were 
those of about three years old. 

THE OWL TRACKS MOOSE 

That night, as Oo-koo-hoo was in a talkative mood, he told 
me much about the hunting of moose, as we sat before our 
snow-encircled fire in the still, silent, sombre woods. 

"We hunters usually take moose by shooting or snaring 
them, and the first thing to do is to find a track, and if it is old, 
follow it up until new signs appear. And now, my son, as you 
may some day want to hunt moose on your own account, I shall 
tell you how to trail them and what to do when you find them. 
Listen to my words and remember: As soon as you find a fresh 
track, look toward the sun to learn the time of day; for if it is 
between eight and nine on a winter morning the moose will be 
feeding, as it seldom hes down until between ten and three. 
If feeding, the track will zig-zag about, and for a time head 
mainly up wind, until its feeding is nearly done, then if the wind 
is from the right, the moose will turn to the left and circle down 
wind and finally come about close to its old trail where it will 
lie down to rest. So when you find a zig-zagging track about 
which the brush has been browsed, and when the wind comes 
from the right of the trail, you, too, should circle to the left, but 
instead of circhng down wind as the moose has done, or is now 
doing, you circle up wind until you either approach the danger 
point where the wind may carry your scent to the moose, 
or otherwise, until you cut the moose's track. In either case 
you should now retrace your steps for some distance and then 
begin a new circle, and this time, a smaller one. If you now 
find a new trail, but still no sign that the moose has turned up 
wind, or is about to do so, you retrace your steps and begin a 
still smaller circle, then when you strike the trail again, you can 
judge fairly weU — without even getting a sight of it — the exact 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 223 

position of your quarry. Then is the time to take off your 
snowshoes and approach with greater care then ever; but re- 
member, always keep to leeward of the track and always look 
up wind. Should you now come to an open space, watch care- 
fully any clumps of trees or bushes; if passing through heavy 
timber, watch for an opening, and if there should be fallen tim- 
ber there, scan it most carefully where the dead trees lie, for 
there, too, your game may be lying. Remember, my son, if you 
approach a moose directly he will either see or scent you, and 
in circling, you must understand that only the skill of the 
hunter in reading the signs can successfully determine the size 
of the circle — sometimes it may cover a quarter of a mile. 

"Then, too, my son, the seasons play a part in hunting. In 
winter, a moose, of course, does not go to water, but eats snow 
to slake its thirst. But whenever there is open water, a moose 
will go to drink about sunrise; in the fly season, however, all 
rules are broken, as the brute then goes to water night or day, 
to get rid of the pests, and it will even remain submerged with 
nothing above the surface — save its nose. In stormy weather 
look for moose among heavy timber, and in fair weather search 
the open feeding places. But in bad weather, though the hun- 
ter gains one advantage, the moose gains another; for while 
many twigs and sticks are apt to be broken by the high wind 
and thus the sound of the hunter's approach is less likely to be 
heard, the eddying currents of air are then more apt to carry 
the hunter's scent to the moose regardless of the fact that his 
approach may be faultless. 

"Also, my son, you must be careful not to disturb the little 
tell-tale creatures of the woods or success that seems so near 
may vanish in a moment; for a raven may fly overhead, and 
spying you, circle about — just as the pigeons used to do — 
and then crying out may warn the moose of your presence. 
Or you may flush a partridge; or a squirrel, taking fright, 
may rush up a tree and begin chattering about you; or a rabbit 



224 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

may go dnmuning into a thicket, and the moose, reading these 
signs of alarm, will surely look about to learn the cause. 

"But, my son, should you spy a moose lying down, it is 
rather risky to fire at it in that position, as it is then hard to hit 
a vital spot. The better way is to stand with cocked gun 
covering the game, and then break a twig — not too sharply 
though, or you may scare away your quarry. Watch its ears: 
if they flop back and forward, it has heard nothing, but if both 
ears point in your direction, keep still and be ready, for it has 
heard you, and now with one great spring it may disappear 
into a thicket. Instead of breaking a twig, some hunters prefer 
to whistle like a startled rabbit while other hunters prefer to 
speak to the moose in a gentle voice, always taking care to use 
none but kindly words, such as for instance: 'Oh, my lazy 
brother, I see you are sleeping long this morning.' 

"For we Indians never speak harshly to so good an animal, 
nor do we ever use bad words, as bad words always bring bad 
luck to the hunter. 

"In winter, my son, a moose makes much noise in walking 
and feeding, for then he often breaks off the tops of little trees — 
though some of the trunks may be as thick as a man's arm. 
The moose breaks down trees of such a size by placing his big 
shoulder against it, and curving his powerful neck round it, and 
then bending it over with his massive head. Then, too, he often 
rides down small trees, such as birch or poplars, just by strad- 
dling his fore legs about them and using his chest to force them 
over. 

" In shooting a moose, remember the best spot is just behind 
the shoulder, and while the next best is in the kidneys, the head 
is not a good shot for a smooth-bore gun, for bone often deflects a 
round ball. A good hunter always tries to get a clear view of 
his quarry, for even a twig may deflect his bullet. And re- 
member, too, my son, that as a rule, when coming upon a fresh 
track, it is wiser to back-track it than to follow it up at once. 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 225 

as back-tracking will provide the hunter with about all the 
information he may require, as the back trail will teU him if the 
game was travelling fast or slow, whether it was fleeing in 
fright or feeding; and if feeding, whether it was feeding quietly 
or in haste; and if in haste, the twigs would be torn off instead of 
being clean cut. Sometimes a good hunter will back-track a 
trail several miles in order to assure the success of his hunt. 

" My son, if a moose is badly frightened by man-smell it may 
at first go off on the gallop and then settle down to a steady trot 
for four or five miles before it stops to listen — ^but not to feed. 
Then, turning its head this way and that, and even trembling 
with excitement, as it throws its snout into the air, to test if 
danger is still following, it may then start off again on another 
long trot, but all the time it wiU, as much as possible, avoid open 
places. Later it may attempt to feed by tearing off twigs as 
it hurries along, and then at last it will circle to leeward and 
finally rest not far from its old trail. Under such conditions, 
the distance a moose travels depends largely upon the depth of 
the snow. Two or three feet of snow will not hamper it much, 
but when the depth is four feet, or when the moose's beUy begins 
to drag in the snow, the brute will not travel far. An old bull 
will not run as far as a young one, and a cow will not travel as 
far as a bull; but when tired out a moose sleeps soundly, so 
soundly, indeed, that a hunter can easily approach as close 
as he pleases. But don't forget, my son, that a good hunter 
never runs a moose — at least, not unless he is starving — as 
running a moose spoils the meat. 

"Sometimes, my son, a hunter may use a dog to trail a moose, 
but it is dangerous work for the dog, as the moose may turn at 
bay and strike at the dog with any one of its chisel-hke hoofs 
or may even seize the dog by the back in its mouth, carry it for 
a httle way, then throw it into the air and when it falls trample 
it to death. So, my son, when hunting moose in that way, it 
is best to have two dogs or more, as then one dog may attack 



226 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

while another is being pursued. But I warn you, if you are in 
pursuit of a moose and if he turns at bay for the first time . . . 
look out ... for then he will surely attack you; if, how- 
ever, he turns at bay through sheer exhaustion or from over- 
whelming pain, he will not always fight; but under the first 
condition, the hunter is a fool if he approaches within ten paces 
of a bayed moose." 

"the owl" makes a kill 

Rising early next morning we made a very small fire to cook 
our breakfast and were ready to start as soon as dawn came to 
light us on our way. Oo-koo-hoo took great care in loading his 
gun as he expected to come upon moose at any time. He 
placed a patch of cotton about the ball before ramming it in, 
and made sure that the powder showed in the nipple before 
putting on the percussion cap. And as he took his fire-steel 
and whetted a keener edge upon his knife, a smile of hunter's 
contentment overspread his face, because he well knew how 
soon he was to use the blade. That morning he did not hght his 
pipe as usual because, as he explained, he wanted to have his 
wits about him; furthermore, he did not wish to add to the 
strength of his man-smell; and whispering to me he added with 
a smile: 

"My son, when I smeU some men, especially some white 
men, I never blame the animals of the Strong Woods for 
taking fright and running away." 

And that reminds me that while we white people consider the 
negro the standard-bearer of the most offensive of all human 
body smells, the Indian always unhesitatingly awards the palm 
to the white man, and sometimes even the Indian children and 
babies, when they get an unadulterated whiff from a white 
man, will take such fright that it is hard for their mothers to 
console them — a fact that has often made me wonder what 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 227 

the poor little tots would do if they scented one of those highly 
painted and perfumed "ladies" that parade up and down 
Piccadilly, Fifth Avenue, or Yonge Street? 

After following the trail for about fifteen minutes, we came 
to where the moose had been lying down, and the hunter whis- 
pered: 

"My son, I am glad I did not smoke, but I am sorry that we 
camped so near." Then he added as he pointed to the im- 
pression of a moose's body in the snow: "A moose seldom lies 
twice in the same place in the snow, as the old bed would be 
frozen and hard as well as dirty." 

But as we had not made much noise, nor cut any big wood 
to make a fire, he was hopeful that our chances were stiU good; 
and at sunrise he concluded that it was time we should leave our 
sled behind and begin to track our quarry more cautiously. 
From then on there was to be no talking — not even in a whis- 
per. Soon we came upon yesterday's tracks, then farther on we 
saw where the moose had circled before lying down again for the 
night, with their eyes guarding their front while their scent 
guarded their rear. 

At last we came upon still fresher signs that told that the 
moose might be within a hundred paces or less. At a signal 
from the old hunter I imitated him by shpping off my snow- 
shoes, and standing them upon end in the snow, and Oo-koo- 
hoo leading the way, began to circle to our right as a gentle 
wind was coming on our left. Now our progress was indeed 
slow, and also perfectly noiseless. It seemed to take an age 
to make a semicircle of a couple of hundred paces. Again we 
came upon the tracks of the moose. The signs were now 
fresher than ever. Retracing our own tracks for a fittle way 
we started on another circle, but this time, a smaller one, for we 
were now very near the moose. Silent ages passed, then 
we heard the swishing of a pulled branch as it flew back into 
place; a few steps nearer we progressed; then we heard the 



228 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

munching sound of a large animal's jaws. Oo-koo-hoo rose 
slightly from his stooped position, peered through the branches 
of a dense spruce thicket, crouched again, turned aside for 
perhaps twenty paces . . . looked up again . . . 
raised his gun and saying in a gentle voice: "My brother, I 
need . . ." he fired. 

Instantly there was a great commotion beyond the thicket, 
one sound running off among the trees, while the other, the 
greater sound, first made a brittle crash, then a ponderous thud 
as of a large object falling among the dead under-branches. 

The hunter now straightened up and with his teeth pulled 
the plug from his powder horn, poured a charge into his gun, 
spat a bullet from his mouth into the barrel, struck the butt 
violently upon the palm of his left hand, then slipping a cap 
upon the nipple, moved cautiously forward as he whispered: 
" Its neck must be broken." Soon we saw what had happened. 
One moose was lying dead, the ball had struck it in the 
neck; it was a three-year-old cow — the one Oo-koo-hoo had 
selected — while the other, a bull, had left nothing but its 
tracks. 

Presently The Owl re-loaded his gun with greater care, then 
we returned for our snowshoes and to recover our toboggan 
before we started to skin the carcass. On the way Oo-koo-hoo 
talked of moose hunting, and I questioned him as to why he 
had turned aside for the last time, just before he fired, and he 
answered : 

"My son, I did it so that in case I should miss, the report 
of my gun would eome from the right direction to drive the 
moose toward home and also toward our sled; and in case, 
too, that I hit the moose and only wounded it, the brute would 
run toward our sled and not take us farther away from it. 
Also, my son, if I had merely wounded the beast, but had seen 
from the way it flinched that it had been struck in a vital spot, 
I would not have followed iamaediately, but would have sat 




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WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 229 

down and had a smoke, so as not to further disturb the wounded 
animal before it had time to bleed to death. Besides, a mere 
glance at the trail would tell me whether or not I had mortally 
wounded the moose — whether the brute was hit high or low, and 
whether the blood was dark or light. If hit high, the blood 
would be upon the branches as well as upon the snow; if the 
blood was black it would mean that an artery had been severed 
and that the moose was mortally wounded. If the latter had 
happened, then would be the time for me to get out my pipe 
and have a smoke." 

SKINNING ANIMALS 

As we were to be busy for the rest of the day, we made a 
suitable camp and started a fire and by that time the moose 
had stiffened enough for proper handhng while removing the 
skin. As usual the hunter's first act was to cut the eyes, then 
to cut off the head, which he at once skinned and, removing the 
tongue, hung the head beside the fire to cook while we went on 
with our work. 

But while we propped up the moose and got it into good 
position, three whiskey jacks (Canada Jays) came, as they 
always seem to come at the first sign of smoke, to pay us a 
visit and partake of the feast. They are fluffy, heavily feath- 
ered httle birds of gray, with wings and tail of darker hue, 
and with a white spot on their forehead. They are not un- 
like the blue jay in their calls and shrieks, though they have 
some notes of their own that are of a quieter, softer tone. They 
are friendly httle beggars that will at times come so near that 
they may occasionally be caught in one's hand; but while 
one likes to have them about for the sake of their companion- 
ship, they will, uninvited, take a share of anything that is good 
to eat. They are the most familiar birds to be seen in the 
winter forest, and they have a remarkable way of laying their 



230 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

eggs and nesting in the month of March when the weather 
may register from twenty to forty below zero. 

In the forest there are several different ways of skinning 
animals: one is called "case skinning" and another is called 
"split skinning." To case skin an animal such as ermine, fox, 
fisher, lynx, marten, mink, otter, muskrat, rabbit, or skunk, 
the skin is cut down the inner side of each hind leg until the 
two cuts meet just under the tail, and then the pelt is peeled 
off by turning it inside out. To split skin an animal such 
as wood-buffalo, moose, wapiti, caribou, deer, bear, beaver, 
wolf, or wolverine, the skin is cut down the belly from throat 
to tail and also on the inside of each leg to the centre cut, 
and then the pelt is peeled off both ways toward the back. 
All split skins are stretched on rectangular frames — all save 
beaver skins which are stretched on oval frames. All case 
skins are stretched over wedge-shaped boards of various sizes — 
all save muskrat skins which are more often stretched over a 
hooped frame or a looped stick. So, of course, our moose pelt 
was "split skinned," but there is still another way to skin an 
animal that is too large for one man to turn over, and that 
is — in case the animal is lying on its belly — to split the skin 
down the back and then peel it off both ways toward the 
belly. 

If the skin is to be used as a robe, the hair is left on, and the 
animal's brains are rubbed into the inner side of the pelt, after 
the fat has been removed, and then the skin is left to dry. 
That softens the pelt; but traders prefer skins to be sun-dried 
or cold-dried. If the skin is to be used as leather, the hair 
is cut off with a knife, and a deer's shin-bone is used as a 
dressing tool in scraping off the fat; both sides of the skin are 
dressed to remove the outer surface. It is easier to dress a 
skin in winter than in summer, but summer-made leather 
wears better, for the reason that the roots of the hair run all 
through a summer skin; whereas in winter the roots show only 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 231 j 

on the outer side; that is why a fur-trader — when looking only 

at the inner side — can tell whether a skin has been taken in 

winter or sununer. In dressing leather the uiner side is rubbed 

well with brains which are then allowed to soak in for three or J 

four days; then the skin is soaked in a vessel filled with water — tj 

but not in a river — for about two days more; then it is stretched 

again and let dry, then scraped with a bone, shell, or steel 

scraper — if it is a moose skin, only on one side, but if it is a 

caribou skin, on both sides. The object of scraping is to 

further soften the skin. After that, it is taken off the stretcher 

and rubbed together between the hands and pulled between 

two people. Then it is stretched again and smoked over a 

slow fire that does not blaze. 

Woodsmen hunt moose for food and clothing. Townsmen 
hunt moose for the satisfaction of killing. But should the 
townsman fail in his hunt, he may hire a native "Head Hun- 
ter" to secure a head for hun; and that reminds me of one night 
during the early winter, when a strange apparition was seen 
crossing the lake. It appeared to have wings, but it did not 
fly, and though it possessed a tail, it did not run, but contented 
itself with moving steadily forward on its long, up-turned feet. 
Over an arm it carried what might have been a trident, and 
what with its waving tail and great outspreading wings that 
rose above its horned-like head, it suggested that nothing less 
than Old Beelzebub himself had come from his flaming region 
beyond to cool himself on the snow-covered lake. But in 
reahty it was just Oo-koo-hoo returning with a fine pair of 
moose horns upon his back, and which he comited on turning 
over to the trader for some city sportsman who would readily 
palm it off as a trophy that had fallen to his unerring aim, and 
which he had brought down, too, with but a single shot . . . 
of $25. 

WTiile at work I recalled how Oo-koo-hoo had surmised, 
before he had examined the carcass, that he had broken the 



232 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

moose's neck with his ball, and on questioning him as to how he 
knew, he replied: 

"My son, if an animal is hit in the neck and the neck is 
broken, the beast will collapse right where it is; but if hit in the 
heart, it will lunge forward ; if hit in the nose, it will rear up ; 
if hit in the spine, it will leap into the air. Yes, my son, I 
have seen a great bull buffalo leap lynx-like, into the air, 
when it was struck in the spine." 

Knowing that the hunter had wanted to procure more than 
one moose I asked him why he had not at once pursued the 
other .^ And he explained : 

"For two reasons, my son: first, because I don't want a bull, 
I want the tenderer meat and the softer skin of a cow; and 
secondly, even if I had wanted him, I would not have pursued 
him at once as that would cause him to run. If a moose is 
pursued on the run, it overheats, and that spoils the meat, 
because the moose is naturally a rather inactive animal that 
hves on a small range and travels very Kttle; but it is quite 
different with the caribou, for the caribou is naturally an active 
animal, a great traveller, that wanders far for its food, and to 
pursue it on the run only improves the flavour and the texture 
of its meat." 

OLD-TIME HUNTING 

After supper, as we sat in the comfortable glow of the fire, 
we talked much of old-time hunting, for in certain parts of the 
Great Northern Forest many of the ancient methods are 
practised to-day. Fire is often made by friction; many hunters 
still use the bow and arrow, wlule others use the flintlock gun; 
frequently, too, they rely upon their spears; bone knives and 
awls as well as stone axes are stiU applied to work; fish nets are 
yet woven from the inner bark of cedar; and still to-day wooden 
baskets and birch-bark rogans are used for the purpose of heat- 
ing water and boiling food. Notwithstanding our far over- 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 233 

rated civilization the natives in some sections are dressed to-day 
in clothing entirely derived from the forest. 

One of the most ancient methods of hunting and one which 
is still in vogue in some remote localities is the "drive." Two 
famous places for drive hunting in olden days were Point 
Carcajou on Peace River, and the Grand Detour on Great 
Slave River. The former driving ground was about thirty 
miles long by about three miles across, while the latter was 
about fifteen miles long by about three miles across. The 
mode of hunting was for a party of Indians to spread out 
through the woods, and all, at an appointed time, to move for- 
ward toward a certain point, and thus drive the game before 
them, until the animals, on coming out into the open at the 
other end, were attacked by men in ambush. At those driving 
grounds in the right season — even if a drive of only a few miles 
were made — the Indians could count on securing two or three 
bears, three or four moose, and twelve or fifteen caribou. But 
in later years, a number of the drivers having been accidentally 
shot from ambush, the practice has been discontinued in those 
localities. 

THE BEAR IN HIS WASH 

It is not an uncommon occurrence for a hunter, when travel- 
hng through the winter woods, to discover the place where a 
bear is hibernating; the secret being given away by the 
condensed breath of the brute forming hoar frost about the im- 
perfectly blocked entrance to the wash. The Indians' hunting 
dogs are experts at finding such hidden treasure, and when they 
do locate such a claim, they do their best to acquaint their 
master of the fact. 

One day when Oo-koo-hoo was snowshoeing across a beaver 
meadow, his dogs, having gained the wooded slope beyond, 
began racing about as though they had scented game and 
were trying to connect a broken trail. So The Owl got out his 



234 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

pipe and sat down to have a smoke while his dogs were busily 
engaged. Presently they centred on a certain spot, and 
Oo-koo-hoo, going over, discovered the tell-tale hoar frost. 
Twisting out of his snowshoes — for an Indian never has to 
touch his hands to them when he puts them on or takes them 
off — he used one of them for a shovel, and digging away the 
snow, he came upon a bear's wash. It was quite a cave and 
dark inside, and as the dogs refused to enter, the hunter crawled 
into the entrance and reaching in as far as he could with his 
hand, felt the forms of two bears. Making sure of the exact 
position of the head of one of them, he then shoved his gun 
in until the muzzle was close to the ear of one of the bears 
and then he fired. The explosion aroused the other bear and 
as it crawled out Oo-koo-hoo killed it with his axe. The latter 
was a brown bear while the former was a black. 

When a bear in his den shows fight and threatens danger, 
the hunter may wedge two crossed poles against the opening 
of the wash, leaving only enough space for the brute to squeeze 
through and thus prevent it from making a sudden rush. 
Then when the bear does try to come out, the hunter, standing 
over the opening, kills it with the back of his axe. Sometimes 
a second hole is dug in order to prod the beast with a pole to 
make it leave its den. The white hunter frequently uses fire 
to smoke a bear out, but not infrequently he succeeds in ruin- 
ing the coat by singeing the hair. It requires more skill, how- 
ever, to find a bear's wash than it does to kill him in his den. 
The Indians hunt for bear washes in the vicinity of good fishing 
grounds or in a district where berries have been plentiful. 

One winter when I happened to be spending a few days 
at Brunswick House an old Indian woman came to call upon 
the Hudson's Bay trader's wife, and, while she was having 
afternoon tea, she casually remarked that while on her way 
to the Post she had espied a bear wash. Digging down into 
its den with one of her snowshoes, she had killed the brute with 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 235 

her axe, and if the other guests would care to see her prize, 
it was lying on her sled, just outside the door. What a con- 
trast to the way the Wild West movie actors would have done 
the deadly work with the aid of all their absurd artillery! 
Nevertheless, that kindly spoken, smihng-faced, motherly old 
lady, did the deed with nothing but her little axe. 

But while the men of the wilderness laugh over the serious 
drivel of most fiction writers who make a specialty of northern 
tales, nothing is so supremely ludicrous as the attempts made 
by the average movie director to depict northern life in Canada. 
Never have I seen a photoplay that truthfully illustrated north- 
ern Canadian life. 

THE WOLVERINE AND GILL NET 

Next day we again set out on a moose trail, but, as ill luck 
followed us in the way of a heavy snowstorm, we gave up the 
chase and continued on our way. It was hard going and we 
stopped often. Once we halted to rest beside a number of 
otter tracks. Otters leave a surprisingly big trail for animals 
of their size. A good imitation could be made of an otter's 
trail by pressing down into the snow, in a horizontal position, 
a long, irregulai" stove pipe of the usual size. The reason the 
otter's trail is so formed, is that the animal, when travelling 
through deep snow, progresses on its belly and propels itself 
principally by its hind legs, especially when going down hill. 
When making a hillside descent an otter prefers to use an old, 
well-worn track and glides down it with the ease and grace 
of a toboggan on its slide. It was the sight of the otter's trail 
that set Oo-koo-hoo thinking of his younger days. 

"Years ago, my son, I very nearly killed a man. It hap- 
pened at just such a place as this: a little lake with a patch 
of open water above a spring. It was on my father's hunting 
grounds, and late one afternoon, after passing through heavy 



236 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

timber, I came out upon its shore, and there I discovered two 
men robbing one of my otter traps. One man was holding up 
the otter by the tail and laughingly commenting on his gain, 
while the other was resetting the trap beneath the ice. I raised 
my gun and was about to fire, when it occurred to me that, 
after all, a man's life was worth more than an otter's skin; so I 
let them go, and left it to the Redcoats (Mounted Police) 
to settle with them. I knew them both. They were half-breeds 
from near Montreal, and were well learned in the ways of the 
whites." 

But before setting out on our way — I forgot to tell you — we 
cached our moose meat in a tree as was previously agreed upon 
with old Granny, who, with the boys, was to come and take it 
home; and in order to prevent wolverines from stealing or 
spoiling the meat, the hunter wrapped round the trunk of the 
tree an old bag to which were fastened many fish hooks, all 
with their barbs pointing downward and ready to impale any 
creature that tried to climb the tree. Needless to say, as that 
tree stood alone, no wolverine touched that meat. 

That day we covered about twenty miles, and by the after- 
noon of the second day we had arrived at the lake on the far 
shore of which Hved Oo-koo-hoo's sister, Ko-ko-hay — The 
Perfect Woman — with her daughter and her son-in-law and 
four granddaughters. As we drew near the camp we found the 
women about a mile from shore fishing through the ice for 
salmon trout. There were a number of holes — each of which 
was marked by a spruce bough set upright in the snow — and 
the fishing was being done with hook and line. The hook 
danghng below the ice about a third of the water's depth, 
was held in position by a branch line to which was attached 
a suitable sinker. The trout they had caught ran from ten 
to thirty pounds each — as near as I could judge — and as the 
women had already gained a good haul, they loaded their catch 
upon their sled and returned home with us. 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 237 

Gill nets are also used in the winter time. They are strung 
under the ice beneath a series of holes by means of which the 
net is passed under the ice with the aid of a pole. The lines 
being then secured at either end, the net can be readily drawn 
back and forth for the purpose of emptying and resetting. Of 
course, floats and sinkers are used to spread the ' net *'and 
keep it in proper position. In some localities — where the 
water is muddy — the nets are occasionally boiled with 
willow bark to keep them from being destroyed by 
worms. 

Gill nets, however, are frequently injured by animals, not 
only amphibious ones such as beaver and otter, but even by 
such animals as wolverines. Some years ago, a Yellowknife 
Indian hunting near Fort Resolution had an experience of 
that kind. He having set a gill net beneath the ice, failed 
to visit it for several days. When, however, he did arrive, he 
saw that it had been tampered with, and found no difficulty 
in reading the story in the snow. A wolverine, happening by 
on a mild day when the fishing holes were open, began sniffing 
about one of the poles to which the end lines of the net were 
secured; then scenting the smell of fish, he began chewing the 
pole; and incidentally his sharp teeth severed the cords that 
held the net. Then, for the want of something better to do, 
he went to the other end, to which were attached the lines 
of the other end of the net. Again scenting fish, he began to 
chew the second pole, but this time finding it give way, he 
hauled it out of the hole; and with the pole came part of the 
net; and with the net came a few fish. In trying to free the 
fish from the tangled mesh, he hauled out more net which 
contained more fish; then, in an effort to feast royally, he ended 
by hauling out the whole net. The following day the Indian 
arrived and reading the story in the snow, set a trap for the 
robber. Again the wolverine came, but so did the hunter, 
and much to his delight found the wolverine caught in the trap. 



238 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Such an incident, indeed, is not rare, for the same thing has 
happened in other parts of the forest. 

"the perfect woman" 

The Perfect Woman's daughter was married to a half -breed by 
the name of Tastowich and the four granddaughters were nice- 
looking girls ranging in age from fourteen to twenty. Though 
very shy, they were bubbling over with quiet fun and I en- 
joyed my visit. That evening, among other subjects, we 
discussed the various hunting caps worn by Indian big-game 
hunters, and The Perfect Woman offered to make me one if I 
could supply her with the needed material; but when she saw 
that I had nothing but a double "four-point" Hudson's Bay 
blanket, she offered to make me a complete suit from that 
article and to lend me, for the rest of the winter, a rabbit-skin 
quilt to take the place of the blanket. I accepted her kindly 
offer, but of course paid her for both the work and the quilt. 

So the older women set to work with nothing more modern 
in the way of tools than a pair of scissors, a thimble, and a 
needle and thread; and by bed time I was well rigged in Indian 
fashion, for the hunting trail. The cap they made me was the 
same as Amik wears in my picture of the lynx hunter. The 
suit consisted of a coat and hip-high leggings, and though I 
have worn that suit on many a winter trip, and though it is now 
over twenty -five years old, I have never had to repair their 
excellent hand-sewing. 

When the work was finished the father and the mother 
crawled into a double bunk that was surrounded by a curtciin; 
Ko-ko-hay wound herself up in a blanket and lay down upon the 
floor, and Oo-koo-hoo did hkewise, yet there were two bunks 
still unoccupied. But I was informed that I was to occupy the 
single one, while the four girls were to sleep in the big double 
one. As I had not had my clothes off for several days and as 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 239 

I was counting on the pleasure of sleeping in my night-shirt, I 
planned to sit up late enough to make my wish come true, 
though I knew that the intended occupants of those two bimks 
would have to rely solely upon darkness to form a screen, as 
neither bunk was provided with a curtain. After a little while, 
however, it began to dawn upon me that the girls were counting 
on doing the same thing, for they made no move to leave the 
open fire. But the Sand Man finally made them capitulate. 
At last, rising from their seats, they piled a lot of fresh wood 
upon the fire, then climbing into their big bunk, they took off 
their shawls and hanging them from the rafters, draped them 
completely about their bed. Now my opportunity had arrived, 
and though the fire was filUng the one-room log house with 
a blaze of light, I made haste to discard my clothes — for now 
the older people were all sound asleep. In a few moments I 
was in the very act of slipping on the coveted garment when 
I heard a peal of merriment behind me. On looking round I 
discovered that the shawls had vanished from around the bunk 
and four merry young ladies, all in a row, were peering at me 
from beneath their blankets and fairly shaking their bed with 
laughter. 

INDIANS AND CIVILIZATION 

Tastowich's home was built entirely of wood, deerskin, and 
clay. The house was of logs, the glassless windows were of 
deerskin parchment, the door-lock and the door-hinges were 
of wood, the latch string was of deerskin, the fireplace and 
the chimney were of clay, the roof thatch was of bark. The 
abode was clean, serviceable, and warm; and yet it was a house 
that could have been built thousands of years ago. But con- 
sider, for instance, Oo-koo-hoo's comfortable lodge; a similar 
dwelhng, no doubt, could have been erected a million years 
ago; and thus, even in our time, the pre-historic still hovers 
on the outskirts of our flimsy civihzation. A civilization that 



240 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

billions of human beings for millions of years have been strug- 
gling violently to gain; and now after all that eternal striving 
since the beginning of time — what has been the great out- 
standing gain — as the Indian sees it? "Baldness and starched 
underwear for men, high-heeled shoes and corsets for women, 
and for both — spectacles and false teeth." Is it any wonder 
the red man laughs? 

But some of you will doubt that the Indian laughs, and more 
of you will even doubt whether the red man possesses a sense of 
humour. A few days ago my Toronto ocuhst — ^you see I have 
been justly rewarded for hovering around civihzation — and 
I were discussing Indians. The doctor quoted his experience 
with them. Some years before he had taken a trip into the 
forest where he had met an old Indian chief whose wife had had 
her eye injured by accident. The doctor told the old man if 
ever he contemplated taking his wife to Toronto, to let the 
doctor know of their coming, and he would see what he could do 
to repair the injury. A year or so later a letter arrived from the 
very same Indian reservation. Though it was hard to read, 
the doctor made out that the Indian intended to bring his wife 
to Toronto so that the oculist could fulfil his promise; but as 
luck would have it, the doctor had not only forgotten the 
Indian's name, but he had great difficulty in reading the 
signature. After much study, however, he decided that the 
old Indian had signed his name as "Chief Squirrel" so thus the 
doctor addressed his reply. A couple of weeks later the post- 
man arrived with a letter he was rather loath to leave at the 
doctor's house. The oculist, however, on seeing that it was 
addressed to his own number on Bloor Street West, and that 
the name was preceded by the title of Doctor, believed that it 
was intended for him. On opening it he found it was from the 
old Indian whom he had addressed as " Chief Squirrel. " Now, 
however, he realized he had made a mistake in giving the red 
man such a name, for another glance at the outside of the 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 241 

envelope not only proved that the Indian was indignant, but 
that he also possessed a sense of humour, for "Chief Squirrel'* 
had, in return, addressed the noted ocuUst as "Doctor 
Chipmunk." 

While spending a couple of days at Tastowich's house the 
subject of hunting was never long omitted from the general 
conversation; and upon learning from the half-breed that cari- 
bou were plentiful about a day's travel to the westward, noth- 
ing would do but Oo-koo-hoo must take that route on his re- 
turn home; though of course it meant many more miles 
to cover. The excursion, however, was inviting, as a good 
trail could be followed all the way to the caribou country, 
as the Tastowichs had been hauhng deer meat from that 
region. 

By the evening of the first day, as good fortune would have 
it, we halted among many signs of caribou, and not only were 
fresh caribou tracks to be seen, but also those of wolves, for the 
latter were trailing the deer. The incident reminded Oo-koo- 
hoo of a former experience which he told as we sat by the fire. 

WOLVES RUNNING CARIBOU 

"It happened years ago. For weeks, my son, I had had ill 
luck and my family were starving. For days I had hunted 
first one kind of game and then another, but always without 
success. Then, as a last resort, I started after caribou, though 
I well knew that I should have to travel a long distance before 
faUing in with them. But in the end I was rewarded. The 
going was bad, mostly through a dense growth of small black 
spruce, where the trees stood so close together that I had 
difficulty in hauhng my sled, being compelled, at times, to turn 
on edge, not only my toboggan, but also my snowshoes, in 
order to pass between. After several hours' hard work the 
forest grew more open and, about noon of the third day, I 



242 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

discovered a band of caribou quietly sunning themselves on a 
large muskeg. 

"Some were feeding, others were lying down, fawns were 
scampering about in play, and young bulls were thrusting at 
each other with their prong-like horns. There were over a 
hundred in all. I watched them for some time before I was dis- 
covered by seven young bulls, and as they were nearest me, 
they stopped in their play, left the others, and came down wind 
to investigate the strange two-legged creature that also wore a 
caribou skin. 

"With heads held high and expanded nostrils quivering in 
readiness to catch scent of danger, they came on very slowly 
yet not without a great deal of high stepping and of prancing, 
with a sort of rhythmical dancing motion. Every now and then 
they threw their heads down, then up, and then held them rigid 
again. They were brave enough to come within sixty or 
seventy paces and even a httle closer. But as ill luck ordained, 
while I was waiting for a better chance to bring down one of 
them with my old flint-lock, they caught scent of me, and sud- 
denly falling back — almost upon their haunches — as though 
they had been struck upon the head, they wheeled round, then 
fled in alarm to the main body. Then, as caribou usually do, 
the whole band began leaping three or four feet into the air — 
much as they sometimes do when hit by a bullet. Then, too, 
with tails up they swept away at full gallop and, entering the 
forest beyond, were lost to view. 

"It was a great disappointment, my son, and I became so 
disheartened that I made but a poor attempt to trail them 
that day. That evening, when I lay down to rest upon the edge 
of a muskeg, the moon was already shining; and by midnight 
the cold was so intense that the frost-bitten trees went off with 
such bangs that I was startled out of my slumber. It was then 
that I discovered a pack of eight wolves silently romping about 
in the snow of the muskeg — just hke a lot of young dogs. 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 243 

Their antics interested me and it was some time before I fell 
asleep again. 

"In the morning, though a heavy rime (frozen mist) was 
faUing and though it was so thick that it obliterated the sur- 
rounding forest, I set out again in search of game tracks, 
and having crossed the muskeg, not only found the tracks of 
many caribou, but learned, too, that the eight wolves were now 
trailing the deer in earnest. 

"About half way between sunrise and midday I came upon 
a lake, and there I discovered not only the same herd of caribou 
and the same wolves, but the deer were running at full speed 
with the wolves in full chase behind them. My son, it was a 
fascinating sight. The caribou were going at full gallop, cover- 
ing twenty feet or more at a bound, and all running at exactly 
the same speed, none trying to outstrip the others, for the 
fawns, does, and bucks were all compactly bunched together. 
It was as exciting and as interesting a sight as one may see in 
the Strong Woods. Though the wolves did not seem to be 
putting forth their utmost speed, they nevertheless took care 
to cut every corner, and thus they managed to keep close 
behind, while their long, regular lope foretold their eventually 
overhauling their quarry. 

" Protected by a gentle southwest wind and a thick screen 
of underbrush, I watched the chase. Three times the deer 
circled the lake, which was about half a mile in length. For 
safety's sake the caribou carefully avoided entering the woods, 
even rounding every point rather than cut across among the 
trees. On the fourth round I saw that the wolves had set 
their minds upon running down a single deer, for as they now 
suddenly burst forward at their top speed, the herd, splitting 
apart, allowed the wolves to pass through their ranks. A few 
moments later an unfortunate doe, emerging in front, galloped 
frantically ahead with the wolves in hot pursuit; while the 
rest of the herd slowed down to a trot, then to a walk, and finally 



244 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

halted to rest in perfect indifference as to their companion's 
fate. 

"Round and round the lake the frightened creature sped, 
with the determined wolves behind her. Presently, however, 
the wolves one by one turned aside, and lay down to rest, 
until only two continued the pursuit. But as the deer came 
round the lake again several of the now-refreshed wolves 
again entered the chase, thus they relieved one another. The 
ill-fated doe, in a vain hope of throwing aside her pursuers, 
twice rushed into the very centre of the caribou herd; but it 
was of no avail, for, as the wolves relentlessly followed her, 
the other deer wildly scattered away to a safer distance, where, 
however, they soon came together again, and stood watching 
their enemies running down their doomed comrade. Now 
first one wolf and then another took the lead ; closer and closer 
they pressed upon the exhausted doe whose shortening stride 
told that her strength was fast ebbing away. 

"My son, perhaps you wonder why I did not use my gun.*^ 
I was out of range, and, moreover, while I was afraid that if I 
ventured out of the woods I might frighten the game away, 
I knew I had but to wait a little while and then I should be sure 
of at least one deer without even firing my gun. I did not 
have to wait long. With a few tremendous leaps the leading 
wolf seized the doe by the base of the throat and throwing her, 
heels over head, brought her down. 

"Realizing that I must act at once, I rushed out upon the 
lake, but in my haste I fell and broke the stock off my gun — 
just behind the hammer. But as I still had my axe, I picked 
up the broken gun, and charged in among the wolves that 
now began to back away, though not without much snarhng, 
glaring of angry eyes, and champing of powerful jaws. As 
one remained too near, I let drive at it with a charge from my 
almost useless gun; and though I missed my aim, the report 
reheved me of any further trouble. Cutting up the deer, I 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 245 

feasted upon it for several hours, then loaded my sled and hur- 
ried home with the meat for my starving family." 

There are three principal species of Canadian caribou: the 
smallest living on the Barren Grounds and taking their name 
from that region; the largest frequenting the Rocky Mountains 
west of the Mackenzie River and known as Woodland or Moun- 
tain caribou; and the intermediate size inhabiting the Great 
Northern Forest and called Woodland caribou. 

In comparison with moose, wapiti, and other deer of North 
America, the Woodland caribou ranks third in size. In colour 
its coat is of a grayish brown with a white neck and belly. In 
winter the heavy growth of neck hair really amounts to a mane. 
Of the three breeds, the Woodland caribou have the smallest 
horns, the Barren Ground the slenderest, while the Mountain 
caribou have the most massive. Record antlers range from 
fifty- to sixty-inch beams, with a forty- to fifty-inch spread, and 
possessing from sixty to seventy points. The does are usually 
provided with smaU horns, and in that way they are distinct 
from all other Canadian deer. 

On account of its wide-spreading and concave hoofs the 
Woodland caribou does not have to "yard" as other deer do 
in winter time, for thus provided with natural snowshoes, 
the caribou can pass over the deepest snow with little trouble. 
Also, throughout the year it is an extensive traveller, and as 
its food is found everywhere within its wide range, its wander- 
ings are determined chiefly by the wind. Indeed, so great a 
traveller is it that, when thoroughly alarmed, it may cover 
from fifty to a himdred miles before settHng down again. 
Rivers and lakes do not hinder its roaming for it is a powerful 
and a willing swimmer. The mating takes place in October 
and the calves are born in June. 

The following morning while at breaMast Oo-koo-hoo dis- 
coursed upon the game we were about to himt: 

*'My son, everything that applies to hunting the moose, 



246 THE DRA.MA OF THE FORESTS 

applies to hunting the caribou, except that the hunter never 
tries to ' call ' the caribou. But now I recollect that there is 
one thing about moose hunting that I forgot to tell you and it 
apphes also to himting the caribou. In some localities bar- 
riers are still in use, but nowadays they seldom make new 
ones. In the old days whole tribes used to take part in bar- 
rier hunting and sometimes the barriers would stretch for 
fifteen or twenty miles and were usually made from one part 
of the river to another, and thus they marked off the woods 
enclosed in a river's bend. Barriers are made by felling trees 
in a fine; or, in an open place, or upon a river or lake, placing a 
fine of httle trees in the snow about ten paces apart. Small 
evergreens with the butts no thicker than a msui's thumb were 
often used; yet an artificial line of such brush was enough to 
turn moose or caribou and cause them to move forward in a 
certain direction where the hunters were hiding. Even big 
clumps of moss, placed upon trees, will produce the same 
effect. Frequently, too, snares for deer are set in suitable 
places along the barrier, and while the snares are made of 
babiche the loops are kept open with blades of grass. 

" There is stiU another thing I forgot to tell you about moose 
hunting — ^my son, I must be growing old when I forget so much. 
While my Indian cousins in the East use birch-bark horns for 
calhng moose, my other cousins in the Far North never doj 
yet they call moose, too, but in a different way. They use 
the shoulder blade of a deer. Thus, when a bull is approaching, 
the hunter stands behind a tree and rubs the shoulder blade 
upon the trunk or strikes it against the branches of a neigh- 
bouring bush, as it then makes a sound not unlike a bull thrash- 
ing his horns about. Such a sound makes a bull beheve that 
another is approaching and ready to fight him for the posses- 
sion of the cow, and he prepares to charge his enemy. At 
such a moment the hunter throws the shoulder blade into 
some bushes that may be standing a httle way off, and the 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 247 

enraged bull, hearing this last sound, charges directly for 
the spot. Then, as the brute passes broadside, the hunter fires. 

"But, my son, to return to caribou hunting, you probably 
know that those deer are very fond of open places during sunny 
weather in winter time, such places as, for instance, rivers and 
small lakes where the wind will not be strong. There they 
will spend most of the day resting or playing together in big 
bands of perhaps fifty or more. Sometimes, however, when a 
high wind springs up, they have a curious custom of all racing 
round in a circle at high speed. It is a charming sight to 
watch them at such sport. Most of their feeding is done right 
after sunrise and just before sunset, and at night they always 
resort to the woods. 

"Then, too, when caribou go out upon a lake they have a 
habit of lying down beside the big ridges that rise three or four 
feet above the rest of the surface, where the ice has been split 
apart and then jammed together again with such power that 
the edges are forced upward. They lie down there to avoid 
the wind while resting in the sun. There the hunter sometimes 
digs a trench in the snow and lies in wait for the unsuspecting 
deer. When he shoots one, he immediately skins it, but takes 
care to leave the head attached to the skin; then ramming a 
pole into the head at the neck, he drapes the skin over the pole 
and getting down on all fours places the skin over his back and 
pretends to be a caribou. Thus he will approach the band, 
and should he tire of crawling along on his hands and knees 
he will even lie down to rest in sight of the deer, but he always 
takes care to keep down wind. In such a guise it is not hard 
to come within gun-range of the band. 

"A very good thing to carry when hunting deer in the 
woods is a bunch of tips of deer horns, each about four inches 
long and all suspended from the back of the hunter's belt; as 
the horn tips wiU then tinkle together at every movement of 
the hunter, and make a sound as though the horns of a distant 



248 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

band of closely marching caribou were strikiiig together. In 
that way, my son, it is easier to approach, and when you are 
ready to fire, look carefully for a large, white, fat doe, and then 
let drive at her; for bands of deer are never led by bulls, but 
always by does and usually by a barren one. If you shoot the 
leader first, the chances are the band will stand waiting for one 
of their number to lead the way. Remember, too, that deer are 
never so frightened at seeing or hearing you as they are at 
scenting you, for the merest whiff of man-smell will drive them 
away. When they first scent you they will take two or three 
jumps into the air with their heads held high, their nostrils 
extended, and their eyes peering about; then swinging round, 
they will gallop off and later settle down into a great high- 
stepping, distance-covering trot that will carry them many 
miles away before they halt. There is still another good way to 
hunt caribou on a lake and that is to put on a wolf skin and 
approach on all foius, but it is not so successful as when the 
hunter wears a caribou skin." 

TRAILING IN THE SNOW 

Breakfast over, we shpped on our snowshoes and set out to 
follow a mass of tracks that led southward. It was easy going 
on a beaten trail, a bhnd man could have followed it ; and that 
reminds me of something I have failed to tell you about winter 
traihng in the Northland. In winter, the men of the North- 
land don't trail human beings by scent, they trail them by sight 
or sometimes by touch. Sight trailing, of course, you under- 
stand. Trailmg by touch, however, when not understood by 
the spectator, seems a marvellous performance. For instance, 
when a husky dog, the leader of a sled-train, will come out of 
the forest and with his head held high, and without a moment's 
hesitation, trot across a lake that may be three or four miles 
wide, upon the surface of which the wind and drifting snow 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 249 

have left absolutely no visible sign of a trail, and when that 
dog will cross that great unbroken expanse and enter the woods 
on the far shore exactly where the trail appears in sight again, 
though no stick or stone or any other visible thing marks the 
spot — it does seem a marvellous feat. But it is done, not by 
sight, sound, or scent, but by touch — the feel of the foot. In 
winter time man, too, follows a trail in the same way, not- 
withstanding that he is generally handicapped by a pair of 
snowshoes. Some unseen trails are not hard to follow — 
even a bhnd man could follow them. It is done this way : 

Suppose you come to a creek that you want to cross, yet you 
can see no way of doing it, for there is nothing in sight — neither 
log nor bridge — spanning the river. But suppose someone 
tells you that, though the water is so muddy that you cannot see 
an inch into it, there is a flat log spanning the creek about six 
inches below the surface, and that if you feel about with your 
foot you can find it. Then, of course, you would make your 
way across by walking on the unseen log, yet knowing all the 
time that if you made a misstep you would plunge into the 
stream. You would do it by the feel of the foot. It is just 
the same in following an unseen trail in the snow — it lies hard- 
packed beneath the surface, just as the log lay unseen in the 
river. What a pity it is that the writers of northern tales so 
rarely understand the fife they have made a specialty of de- 
picting. 

But to return to the caribou we were traihng, and also to 
make a long hunt short — for you now know most of the inter- 
esting points in the sport — I must tell you that we spent a full 
day and a night before we came up with them. And that night, 
too, a heavy fall of snow added to our trouble, but it made the 
forest more beautiful than ever. It was after sunrise when we 
picked up fresh tracks. A heavy rime was faUing, but though 
it screened all distant things, we espied five caribou that were 
still fingering on a lake, over which the main band had passed. 



250 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

They were east of us and were heading for the north side of a 
long, narrow island. As soon as they passed behind it, Oo- 
koo-hoo hurried across the intervening space, and ran along the 
southern shore to head them off. The eastern end of the island 
dwindled into a long point and it was there that The Owl hoped 
to get a shot. Sure enough he did, for he arrived there ahead 
of the deer. Though he had lost sight of them, he knew they 
were neeiring him, for he could hear the crunching sound of 
their hoofs in the frosty snow, and later he could even hear that 
strange clicking sound caused by the muscular action of the 
hoofs in walking — a sound peculiar to caribou. 

Oo-koo-hoo cautiously went down on one knee and there 
waited with his gun cocked and in position. The air was 
scarcely moving. Now antlered heads appeared beyond the 
openings between the snow-mantled trees. The hunter, taking 
aim, addressed them: 

" My brothers, I need your . . ." Then the violent report 
of his gun shattered the stillness, and the leader, a doe, lunged 
forward a few paces, staggered upon trembhng legs, and then 
sank down into the brilliantly sunny snow. But before Oo-koo- 
hoo could re-load for a second shot the rest of the httle band 
passed out of range, and, with their high-stepping, hackney ac- 
tion, soon passed out of sight. So, later on, with our sled again 
heavily loaded, and with packs of meat upon our backs, we set 
out for home. 

THE MAN WHO HIBERNATED 

Next morning, soon after sunrise, while I was breaking trail 
across a lake, I espied a log house in a little clearing beside a 
large beaver meadow. As it was about the time we usually 
stopped for our second breakfast, I turned in the direction of 
the lonely abode. It was a small, well-built house, and with the 
exception of the spaces at the two windows and the door, was 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 251 

entirely enclosed by neatly stacked firewood suitable for a 
stove. Beyond, half built in the rising ground, stood a little 
log stable, and near it a few cattle were eating from haystacks. 
Going up to the shack, I knocked upon the door, and as a 
voice bade me enter I slipped off my snowshoes, puUed the 
latch string, and walked in. Entering from the dazzhng sun- 
light made the room at first seem in darkness. Presently, 
however, I regained my sight, and then beheld the interior of a 
comfortable little home — the extreme of neatness and order; 
and then I saw a human form lying beneath the blankets of a 
bunk in a far corner. Later I noticed that two black eyes be- 
neath a shock of black hair were smiling a welcome. 

" Good morning," I greeted. " May I use your stove to cook 
breakfast?" 

"No, sir," replied the figure, then it sat up in bed, and I 
saw that it was a white man. "I'll do the cooking myself, for 
you're to be my guest." 

"Thanks," I returned, "I'm travelling with an Indian and 
I don't wish to trouble you; but if I may use your stove I'll 
be much obliged." 

" If I have what you haven't got," my host smiled, "will you 
dine with me.*^" 

"All right," I agreed. 

"Potatoes," he exclaimed. 

"Good," I laughed. 

"Then sit down, please, and rest while I do the cooking." 

Oo-koo-hoo now came in and at the host's bidding, filled his 
pipe from a tobacco pouch upon the table. 

The accent of the stranger suggested that he was an English 
gentleman, and it seemed strange, indeed, to discover so re- 
fined and educated a man hving apparently alone and without 
any special occupation in the very heart of the Great Northern 
Forest. Curiosity seized me. Then I wondered — was this 
theman.^ . . . could he be " Son-in-law" .^^ 



252 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

But I refrained from questioning him. So I talked about the 
woods and the weather, while Oo-koo-hoo brought in a haunch 
of venison from his sled and presented it to the stranger. But 
with my host's every action and word the mystery grew. 

The stove, which was fireless, stood beside the bed, and 
reaching for the griddle-lifter, my host removed the hds; then 
picking up a stick of pine kindhng from behind the stove, he 
whittled some shavings and placed them in the fire-box; and on 
top of this he laid kindling and birch firewood. Then he re- 
placed the hds, struck a match, and while the fire began to 
roar, filled the kettle from a keg of water that stood behind 
the stove, and mind you, he did it without getting out of 
bed. Next, he leant over the side of the bunk, opened a little 
trap door in the floor, reached down into his httle box-hke cellar, 
and hauled up a bag containing potatoes, which he then put 
in a pot to boil, in their skins. From the wall he took a long 
stick with a crook upon the end, and reaching out, hooked the 
crook round the leg and drew the table toward him. Reaching 
up to one of the three shelves above his bunk, he took down the 
necessary dishes and cutlery to set the breakfast table for us 
three. While the potatoes were boiling he took from another 
shelf — the one upon which he kept a few well-chosen books — 
a photograph album and suggested that I look it over while he 
broiled the venison steak and infused the tea. 

When I opened the album and saw its contents, it not only 
further excited my curiosity regarding the personal history of 
my host, but it thrilled me with interest, for never before or 
since have I seen an album that contained photographs of a 
finer-looking or more distinguished lot of people. Its pages 
contained photographs of Lord This, General That, Admiral 
What's-his-name, and also the Bishop of I've-forgotten and 
many a Sir and Lady, too, as well as the beautiful Countess of 
Can't-remember. 

Breakfast was served. The potatoes were a treat, the steak 



WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 253 

was excellent, the tea was good, and there we three sat and ate 
a hearty meal, for not only did we rehsh the food, but the 
company, the wit, and the laughter, too. But all the while my 
healthy, jovial, handsome host remained in bed. I studied 
the blankets that covered his legs — apparently there was 
nothing wrong with that part of him. I could not fathom the 
mystery. It completely nonplussed me. 

I glanced round the room; there were many photographs upon 
the walls, among them Cambridge "eights" and "fours"; and 
sure enough, there he was, rowing in those very crews; and 
in the football and tennis pictures he also appeared as one of 
the best of them all. And how neat and clean was his one- 
room house! Everything was in order. A water keg be- 
hind the stove to keep the water from freezing. A big barrel 
by the door in which to turn snow into water. A woodpile 
across the end of the room — enough to outlast any blizzard. 
Then when I glanced at him again, I noticed a crested signet 
ring upon his left little finger. Breakfast over, smoking be- 
gan, and as he washed the dishes, I wiped them — but still I 
pondered. Then, at last, I grew brave. I would risk it. I 
would ask him : 

"Why do you stay in bed.*^" 

First he responded with a burst of laughter, then with the 
question: 

"Why, what's the use of getting up.^" and next with the 
statement: "I stay in bed all winter ... or nearly so. 
It's the only thing to do. I used to get up, and go for my mail 
occasionally ... at least, I did a few years ago, but too 
many times I walked the forty miles to the Hudson's Bay 
Company's Flying Post at Elbow Creek only to find no letters 
for me ... so I chucked it all. Then, too, the first 
few winters I was here I used to do a little shooting, but I get all 
the game I want from the Indians now, so I have chucked the 
shooting, too. Now the only thing that gets me out of bed, 



254 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

or takes me out of doors, is to watch which way the wind blows. 
Two winters ago, when I was away from here a week, the wind 
blew steadily from the north for five days or more, and my 
cattle ate so far into the south sides of the hay stacks that two 
of the stacks fell over on them and in that way I lost five head — 
they were smothered." 

Oo-koo-hoo, knocking the ashes from his pipe, began to tie 
his coat; apparently, he thought it was time we were going. 
I opened the album again, and glanced through it once more 
as I sat upon the edge of my strange host's bunk. I stopped 
my turning when I came to a photograph of a charming gentle- 
woman whose hair was done in an old-fashioned way so be- 
coming to her character and beauty. She must have been 
twenty-three. He, then, was nearing forty. I thought his 
hand lingered a httle upon the page. And when I commented 
on her beauty, I fancied his voice tremored slightly — anyway 
his pipe went out. 

But Oo-koo-hoo, getting up, broke the silence. 

I invited my still-unknown host to pay me a visit. We shook 
hands heartily, and as I turned to close the door, I noticed that 
he had lain down again, and had covered up his head. As a 
pleasant parting salutation — a cheering one as I thought — I 
exclaimed : 

"Perfectly stunning! . . . the most beautiful lot of 
women I have ever seen!" 

And then from beneath the bed clothes came — 

"Y-e-s . . . the blighters!'' 



VII 
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 

HYMEN COMES WITH SPRING 

"My son, it is ever thus, when spring is on the way," 
miled Oo-koo-hoo, as Granny entered with glee and displayed 
a new deerskin work-bag, containing needles, tliread, thimble, 
and scissors; a present from Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — 
Neykia's lover. 

"Now that Sprmg and Love are going to hunt together," 
further remarked the Indian, "the snow will run away, and the 
ice begin to tremble when it hears the home-coming birds 
singing among the trees. Ah, my son, it reminds me of the 
days of my youth," sighed The Owl, "when I, too, was a lover." 

"TeUme," I coaxed. 

" It was many years ago, at the New Year's dance at Fort 
Perseverance that I first met Ojistoh. She was thirteen then, 
and as beautiful as she was young. . . . No ; I shall never 
forget those days . . . When she spoke her voice was as 
gentle as the whispering south wind, and when she ran she 
passed among the trees as silently and as swiftly as a vanishing 
dream; but now," added Oo-koo-hoo, with a sly, teasing glance 
at his wife, "but now look at her, my son . . . She is 
nothing but a bundle of old wrinkled leather, that makes a noise 
like a she-wolf that has no mate, and when she waddles about 
she goes thudding around on the spHt end of her body — like a 
rabbit with frozen feet." 

But Granny, saying never a word, seized the wooden fire- 
poker, and dealt her lord and master such a vigorous blow 

255 



256 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

across the shoulders that she slew his chuckle of laughter the 
moment it was bom. Then, as the dust settled, silence reigned. 
A httle later, as Granny put more wood upon the fire, she 
turned to me with twinkhng eyes and said: 

" My son, if you could have seen the old loon when he was 
courting me, it would have filled your heart with laughter. It 
is true he was always a loon, for in those days Oo-koo-hoo, the 
great hunter, was even afraid of his own shadow, for he never 
dared call upon me in daylight, and even when he came sneak- 
ing round at night he always took good care that it was at a 
time when my father was away from home. Furthermore, he 
always chose a stormy evening when the snow would be drifting 
and thus cover his trail; and worse still, when he came to court 
me he always wore women's snowshoes; because, my son, he 
had not courage enough to come as a man." 

This sally, however, only made Oo-koo-hoo smile the more 
as he puffed away at his brier. 

"Did he always bring your grandmother a present?" I 
enquired. 

"No, my son, not always, he was too stingy," replied the old 
woman, "but he did once in a while, I must grant him that." 

"What was it?" 

"Oh, just a few coils of tripe." 

But Granny, of course, was joking, that was why she did not 
explain that deer tripe filled with blood was as great a delicacy 
as a suitor could offer his prospective grandmother-in-law; 
for among certain forest tribes, it is the custom that a marriage- 
able daughter leaves the lodge of her parents and takes up her 
abode with her grandmother — that is, if the old lady is living 
within reasonable distance. 

Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — had come that day, and had 
been invited to sleep in Amik's tepee; yet he spent the greater 
part of his time sitting with Neykia in her grandmother's lodge. 
As there are no cozy corners in a tepee, it is the Ojibway custom 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 257 

for a lover to converse with his sweetheart under cover of a 
blanket which screens the lovers from the gaze of the other 
occupants of the lodge. Early in the evening the blanket 
always hung in a dignified way, as though draped over a 
couple of posts set a few feet apart. Later, however, the posts 
frequently lost their balance and swayed about in such a way 
as to come dangerously near coUiding. Then, if the old grand- 
mother did not speak or make a stir, the blanket would some- 
times show that one support had given away. Accordingly, 
the old woman was able to judge by the general contour of the 
blanket just how the courtship was progressing, and being a 
foxy old dame she occasionally pretended to snore just to see 
what might happen. 

One night, however, Granny's snoring was no longer pre- 
tense, and when she woke up from her nap, she found 
that both supports of the blanket were in immediate danger of 
collapsing. Seizing the stick with which she used to poke the 
fire, she leaped up and belaboured the blanket so severely that 
it lost no time in recovering its proper form. 

Kissa Pesim (The Old Moon) — February, and Mikesewe Pesim 
(The Eagle Moon) — March, had flown and now Niske Pesim, 
(The Goose Moon) — ^April, had arrived; and with it had come 
the advance guard of a few of those numerous legions of migra- 
tory birds and fowls that are merely winter visitors to the 
United States, Mexico, and South America; while Canada is 
their real home — the place where they were born. Next 
would follow Ayeke Pesim (the Frog Moon) of May, when 
love would be in full play; then a httle later would come Wawe 
Pesim (The Egg Moon) otherwise June, when the lovers would 
be living together — or nesting. 

Yes, truly, the long-tarrying but wonderous Goose Moon 
had at last arrived, and at last, too, the spring hunt was on. 
It was now a joyous season accompanied with charming music 
rendered by the feathered creatures. Overhead the geese 



258 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

where honking, out upon the lake the loons were calling, near 
the shore the ducks were quacking, while all through the 
woods the smaller birds were singing. Now, even among 
the shadows, the snow was slinking away ; while the river ice, 
plunging along with a roar, ran down to the lake where it 
rested quietly in a space of open water. 

Now, too, it so happened that day, that Neykia, she of wood- 
land grace and beauty, was strolling in the sunshine with her 
Little Pine; while on every side the trees were shaking their 
heads and it seemed gossiping about the hunting plans of that 
reckless httle elfin hunter. Hymen, who was hurrying overland 
and shooting his joyous arrows in every direction, till the very 
air felt charged with the whisperings of countless lovers. It 
made me think of the shy but radiant Athabasca, and I won- 
dered — ^was her lover with her now? 

THE SPRING HUNT 

The Indians divide their annual hunt for fur into three 
distinct hunting seasons: the fall hunt — from autumn until 
Christmas; the winter hunt — from New Year's Day until Easter; 
and the spring hunt — from Easter until the hunters depart for 
their tribal summer camping ground. At the end of each 
hunting season — if the fur-runners have not traded with the 
hunters and if the hunter is not too far away from the post — 
he usually loads upon his sled the result of his fall hunt and 
hauls it to the Post during Christmas week; likewise he hauls to 
the Post the catch of his winter hunt about Easter time; while 
the gain from his spring hunt is loaded aboard his canoe and 
taken to the Post the latter part of May. Easter time, or the 
end of the winter hunt, marks the closing of the hunting season 
for all land animals except bear; and the renewing of the hunt- 
ing season for bear, beaver, otter, mink, and muskrat, all water 
animals save the first. 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 259 

Meanwhile, the canoes had been overhauled : freshly patched, 
stitched, and gummed, their thwarts strengthened, their ribs 
adjusted, and their bottoms greased. 

A few days later, loading some traps and kit — among which 
was the hunter's bow and quiver of arrows — Eiboard his small 
canoe, Oo-koo-hoo and I set out at sunrise and paddhng around 
the western end of Bear Lake, entered Bear River. It was a 
cold but delightful morning, and the effect of the sun shining 
through the rising mist was extremely beautiful. We were 
going otter- and muskrat-hunting; and as we descended that 
charming little stream and wound about amid its marshy flats 
and birch- and popleir-clad slopes, every once in a while ducks 
startled us by suddenly whirring out of the mist. Then, when 
long hght hues of rippling water showed in the misty screen 
we knew that they were nothing but the wakes of swimming 
muskrats; and soon we ghded into a colony of them; but for the 
time being they were not at home — the still-rising spring freshet 
had driven them from their flooded houses. 

The muskrat's httle island lodge among the rushes is erected 
upon a foundation of mud and reeds that rises about two feet 
before it protrudes above the surface of the water. The build- 
ing material, taken from round the base, by its removal helps 
to form a deep-water moat that answers as a further protection 
to the muskrat's home. Upon that foundation the house is 
built by pihng upon it more reeds and mud. Then the tun- 
nels are cut through the pile from about the centre of the 
over-water level down and out at one side of the under-water 
foundation, while upon the top more reeds and mud are 
placed to form the dome-shaped roof, after which the chamber 
inside is cleared. The apex of the roof rises about three feet 
above the water. In some locaUties, however, muskrats Hve 
in dens excavated in the banks of rivers or ponds. To these 
dens several under-water runways lead. 

Muskrats feed principally on the roots and stalks of many 



260 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

kinds of sub-aqueous plants. In winter time, when their 
pond is frozen over, and when they have to travel far under 
water to find their food, they sometimes make a point of keep- 
ing several water-holes open, so that after securing their food, 
they may rise at a convenient hole and eat their meal without 
having to make long trips to their house for the purpose. In 
order to keep the water-hole from freezing, they build a little 
house of reeds and mud over it. Sometimes, too, they store 
food in their lodges, especially the bulbous roots of certain 
plants. 

Muskrats, like beavers, use their tails for signaUing danger, 
and when alarm causes them to dive they make a great noise, 
out of all proportion to their size. Thus the greenhorn from 
the city is apt to take the muskrat's nightly plunges for the 
sound of deer leaping into water; and just in the same way does 
the sleepless tenderfoot mistake the thudding footfalls of the 
midnight rabbit for those of moose or caribou running roimd 
his tent. 

Muskrats are fairly sociable and help one another in their 
work. They mate in April and their young are born about a 
month later. The Indians claim that they pair like the beaver, 
and that the father helps to take care of the children. The 
young number from three to eight. When they are full grown 
their coats are dark brown. In length muskrats measure 
about eighteen inches, while in weight they run from a pound 
and a half to two pounds. 

Except in autumn, their range is exceedingly small, though 
at that season they wander much farther away from their 
homes. If danger threatens they are always ready to fight, and 
they prove to be desperate fighters, too. While slow on land, 
they are swift in water; and such excellent divers are they 
that in that way they sometimes escape their greatest enemy — 
the mink; though wolves, fishers, foxes, otters, as well as birds of 
prey and Indians are always glad to have a muskrat for dinner. 




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LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 261 

But to return to our muskrat hunt: Oo-koo-hoo, stringing 
his bow and adjusting an arrow, let drive at one of the little 
animals as it sat upon some drift-wood. The blunt-headed 
shaft just skimmed its back and sank into the mud beyond; 
the next arrow, however, bowled the muskrat over; and in an 
hour's time The Owl had eleven in his canoe. When I ques- 
tioned him as to why he used such an ancient weapon, he ex- 
plained that a bow was much better than a gun, as it did not 
frighten the other muskrats away, also it did not injure the pelt 
in the way shot would do, and, moreover, it was much more 
economical. 

Occasionally Oo-koo-hoo would imitate the call of the 
muskrats; sometimes to arrest their attention, but more often 
to entice them within easy range of his arrows. If he killed 
them outright while they were swimming, they sank like stones; 
but when only wounded, they usually swam round on the sur- 
face for a while. Once, however, a wounded one dived, and, 
seizing hold of a reed, held on with its teeth in order to escape 
its pmsuer; Oo-koo-hoo, nevertheless, eventually landed it in 
his canoe. 

In setting steel traps for them the hunter placed the traps 
either in the water or on the bank at a spot where they were 
in the habit of going ashore, and to decoy them to that landing 
Oo-koo-hoo rubbed castoreum on the branches of the surround- 
ing bushes — ^just in the same way as he did for mink or otter. 
Another way he had of setting traps was to cut a hole in the 
side of a muskrat's house, so that he could thrust in his arm and 
feel for the entrance to the tunnel, then he would set a trap 
there and close up the hole. 

One day when he was passing a muskrat house that he had 
previously opened for that purpose and closed again, he dis- 
covered that the hole was again open. Thinking that the newly 
added mud had merely fallen out, he thrust his arm into the 
hole to reach for the trap, when without the slightest warning 



262 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

some animal seized him by the finger. It was a mink that had 
been raiding the house; and in the excitement that followed, the 
brute escaped. The hunter, however, made httle of his in- 
jury; chewing up a quid of tobacco, he placed it over the wound 
and bound it securely with a rag torn from the tail of his shirt. 
Oo-koo-hoo explained that in winter time, when there was 
little snow, he often speared muskrats through the ice. The 
spear point is usually made of quarter-inch iron wire and at- 
tached to a seven-foot shaft. Much of the spearing he did at 
the rats' feeding and airing places — those httle dome-shaped 
affairs made of reeds and mud that cover their water-holes. 
The hunter, enabled by the clearness of the ice, followed 
their runways and traced them to where the httle fellows often 
sat inside their shelters. Knowing that the south side of the 
shelter is the thinnest side. The Owl would drive in his spear 
and impale the little dweller. 

HUNTING THE OTTER 

That afternoon Oo-koo-hoo set a number of traps for otter. 
When placed on land otter traps are set as for fox, though of 
course of a larger size, and the same statement applies to dead- 
falls; while the bait used for both kinds of otter traps is the 
same as that used for mink. The otter is an unusually playful, 
graceful, active, and powerful animal; but when caught in a trap 
becomes exceedingly vicious, and the hunter must take care 
lest he be severely bitten. Oo-koo-hoo told me that on one 
occasion, when he was hunting otters, he lost his favourite dog. 
The dog was holding an otter prisoner in a rocky pocket where 
the water was shallow, and the otter, waiting to attack the dog 
when off guard, at last got its chance, seized its adversary by 
the throat, and that was the end of the dog. 

The otter is not only easily tamed, but makes a charming 
pet, as many a trader has proved; and it is one of the few 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 263 

animals that actually indulge in a sport or game for the sheer 
sake of the thrill it eiffords. Thus the otter is much given to 
the Canadian sports of tobogganing and "shooting the chute," 
but it does it without sled or canoe; and at aU seasons of the 
year it may be seen sharing its favourite slide — sometimes 
fifty or a hundred feet in length — with its companions. If in 
summer, the descent is made on a grassy or clayey slope down 
which the animals swiftly glide, and plunge headlong into deep 
water. If the sport takes place on a clay bank, the wet coats 
of the otters soon make the sHde so slippery that the descent 
is made at thrilling speed. But in winter time the sport be- 
comes geneicJ, as then the snow forms a more convenient and 
easier surface down which to slide. The otter, though not a 
fast traveller upon land, is a master swimmer, and not only 
does it pursue and overtake the speckled trout, but also the 
swift and agile salmon. 

Otters den in the river or lake bank and provide an under- 
water entrance to their home. They mate in February and 
the young — never more than five, but more often two — are 
born in April; and though their food includes flesh and fowl — 
muskrats, frogs, and young ducks — it is principally composed 
of fish. 

Though slow on land an otter often travels considerable 
distances, especially in winter time, when it goes roaming in 
search of open water. If pursued it has a protective way of 
diving into and crawhng swiftly beneath the surface of the 
snow, in such a way that though its pursuer may run fast, he 
more often loses his quarry; I know, because I have experienced 
it. 

The otter not only has its thick, oily, dark-brown fur to keep 
it warm, but also a thick layer of fat between its skin and body; 
and thus, seal-like, it seems to enjoy in comfort the coldest of 
winter water. Otters measure three or four feet in length and 
in weight run from fifteen to thirty pounds. 



264 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

The Indians of the Strong Woods are very susperstitious 
in relation to the otter. They not only refuse to eat the flesh, 
but they don't like to take the carcass home, always preferring 
to skin it where it is caught. Even then they dislike to place 
the skin in their hunting bag, but will drag it behind them on 
the snow. Also, Indian women refuse to skin an otter, as they 
have a superstition that it would prevent them from becom- 
ing mothers. 

One afternoon, when Oo-koo-hoo and I were sitting on a 
high rock overlooking the rapids on Bear River, he espied an 
otter ascending the turbulent waters by walking on the river 
bottom. We watched the animal for some time. It was an 
interesting sight, as it was evidently hunting for fish that might 
be resting in the backwaters behind the boulders. Every 
time it would ascend the rapids it would rise to the surface 
and then quietly float down stream in the sluggish, eddying 
shore cm-rents where the bushes overhung the bank. Then 
it would again dive and again make the ascent by crawUng up 
the river bottom. 

"My son, watch him closely, for if he catches a fish you will 
see that he always seizes it either by the head or tail, rarely by 
the middle, as the fish would then squirm and shake so vio- 
lently that the otter would not like it. Sometimes, too, an 
otter wiU he in wait on a rock at the head of a rapid, and when 
a fish tries to ascend to the upper reach of the river by leaping 
out of the water and thus avoiding the swift current, the otter 
will leap, too, and seize the fish in mid-air. It is a thrilling 
sight to see him do it." 

The snow was going so rapidly and the water running so 
freely that Oo-koo-hoo felt sure the bears had now aU left their 
dens, otherwise water might be trickhng into their winter beds. 
So, for the next few days, the hunter was busily engaged in 
setting traps for bears, beavers, otters, minks, and muskrats; 
and thus the spring hunt went steadily on while the Goose 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 265 

Moon waned and then disappeared, and in its place the Frog 
Moon shone. 

LITTLE pine's LOVE SONG 

One sunny morning, while I was strolling along the beach, 
I heard the sound of distant drumming, and presently a youth- 
ful voice broke into song. It was The Little Pine singing to 
his sweetheart. 

Now it was May time in the Northland. Tender grasses 
were thrusting their tiny blades from under last year's leaves 
and here and there the woodland's pale-green carpet was en- 
riched with masses of varying colours where wild flowers were 
bursting into bloom. Yet the increasing power of the sun had 
failed to destroy every trace of winter — for occasional patches 
of snow were to be seen clinging to the shady sides of the 
steepest hills and small ice floes were stiU floating in the lake 
below. But as summer comes swiftly in the Great Northern 
Forest, spring loses no time in Angering by the way. Already 
the restless south wind was singing softly to the "Loneland" 
of the glorious days to come. 

The forest and all her creatures, hearing the song of spring 
time, were astir with joyous life. Among the whispering trees 
the bees were humming, the squirrels chattering, and many 
kinds of birds were making love to one another. 

No wonder Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — sang his love 
song, too, for was not his heart aflame with the spring time 
of hfe.^ Perched high among the branches of a pine the youth 
was reheving the monotony of his drumming by occasionaUy 
chanting. At the foot of the thickly wooded hillside upon 
which the pine stood the indolent waters of Muskrat Creek 
meandered toward Bear Lake. On the bank near the river's 
mouth stood the lodges, but neither Oo-koo-hoo nor Amik 
seemed to be at home; and the rest of the family may have 
been absent, too, for the dogs were mounting guard. 



266 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Again the boy beat his drum; louder and louder he sang his 
love song until his soft rich voice broke into a wail. Presently 
the door-skin of Granny's lodge was gently pushed aside, and 
Neykia stepped indolently forth. 

Shading her eyes with her hand, the girl gazed at the hillside, 
but failed to discern her lover in the tree top. She hstened 
awhile and then, upon hearing once more the love song above 
the beating of the drum, yielded to the dictates of her heart 
and began to climb the hill. Little Pine saw her coming, 
ceased his drumming, and shd down to hide behind the tree 
trunk. 

A faintly marked woodland path led close by, and along it 
the maiden was advancing. As she came abreast of the tree 
the youth, in fun, gave a shout, and the maid — evidently 
pretending bashful alarm— took to flight. 

Though fleet of foot, she suffered him to overtake her soon 
and catch her by the arm, and hold her while she feigned to 
struggle desperately for freedom. That won, she turned away 
with a laugh, sat down upon a bank of wild flowers, and with 
shyly averted face, began plucking them. Little Pine sat down 
beside her. A moment later she sprang up and with merry 
laughter ran into the denser forest, and there, with her lover 
swiftly following her, disappeared from view. 

At sunset that evening Oo-koo-hoo and his wife sat smoking 
beside their fire; and when the hermit thrush was singing, 
the whippoorwiU whippoorwilling, the owl oo-koo-hooing, 
the fox barking, the bull frog whoo-wonking, the gander honk- 
ing, the otter whistling, the drake quacking, the squirrel chat- 
tering, the cock grouse drumming, and the wolf howhng — 
each to his own chosen mate, the hunter turned to me and 
smiled: 

"Do you hear Shing-wauk singing.^" 

I hstened more attentively to the many minghng love songs 
of the forest dweUers, and sure enough, away off along the 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 267 

shore, I could hear Little Pine singing to his sweetheart. It 
was charming. 

THE LOVE DANCE 

"My son," sighed Oo-koo-hoo, "it reminds me of the days 
when I, too, was a boy and when Ojistoh was a girl, away back 
among the many springs of long ago." 

"Yes, Nar-pim," smiled Granny — for an Indian woman 
never calls her husband by his name, but always addresses him 
as Nar-pim, which means "my man." 

"Yes, Nar-pim, don't you remember when I heard that 
drumming away off among the trees, and when I, girl-hke, 
pretended I did not know what it meant, but you, saying never 
a word and taking me by the hand, led me to the very spot 
where that handsome little lover was beating his drum and 
making love to so many sweethearts.^" 

"Yes, I remember it well, when I took little Ojistoh, my 
sweetheart, by the hand and we hurried to find the httle drum- 
mer." Then, turning to me, the hunter continued: "My son, 
one never forgets the days of his youth, and well can I recall 
picking our way in and out among the trees and undergrowth, 
tiptoeing here and there lest our moccasined feet should break 
a fallen twig and alarm the drummer or the dancers. For it 
was the love dance we were going to see. As the drumming 
sound increased in volume, our caution increased, too. Soon 
we deemed it prudent to go down upon our hands and knees 
and thus be more sm-ely screened by the underbrush as we 
stealthily approached. Creeping on toward the sound, slowly 
and with infinite precaution, we discovered that we were not 
the only ones going to the dance: the whirring of wings fre- 
quently rustled overhead as ruffed grouse skimmed past us in 
rapid flight. 

"Once, my son, we felt the wind from a hawk's wing swoop- 



268 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

ing low from bush to bush, as though endeavouring to arrive 
unheralded. Twice we caught sight of a fox silently and craft- 
ily stealing along. Once we saw a lynx — a soft gray shadow — 
slinking through the undergrowth eihead. It seemed as if all 
the Strong Woods dwellers were going to the love dance, too, 
and, I remember, Ojistoh began to feel afraid. Rut," smiled 
Oo-koo-hoo, "she was devoured with curiosity; and, besides, 
was not her young lover with her? Why need she fear.** 

"When we came to the foot of a ridge the drununing sounded 
very near. With utmost wariness we crawled from bush to 
bush, pausing every now and then, and crouching low. Then, 
judging the way still clear, we crawled forward, and finally 
gained the top of the ridge. With thumping hearts we rested 
a moment in a crouching posture, for we had at last arrived 
upon the scene. Slowly and breathlessly raising our heads, 
we peered through the leafy screen and beheld the love dance 
in full swing. 

"And there, my son, on a clear sandy opening in the wood, 
twenty or thirty partridge hens were dancing in a semicircle, 
in the centre of which, perched upon a rotten log, a beautiful 
cock partridge drummed. He was standing with his small 
head thrust forward upon a finely arched neck which was 
circled by a handsome outstanding black ruif, fully as wide as 
his body. His extended wings grazed his perch, while his 
superb tail spread out horizontaUy. 

" 'Chun — chun — chun — chun — chun-nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,' he 
hissed slowly at first, but with steadily increasing rapidity. 
His bill was open; his bright eyes were gleaming; his wings were 
beating at such a rate that the forest resounded with the 
prolonged roll of his drumming. Again and again he shrilled 
his love call, and again and again he beat his wondrous ac- 
companiment. Every little while the whirring of swiftly mov- 
ing wings was heard overhead as other hens flew down to join 
in the love dance. To and fro strutted the cock bird in all his 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 269 

pride of beauty — his wings trailing upon the log, his neck 
arched more haughtily than ever, his ruff rising above his 
head, and his handsome fan-hke tail extended higher still. 

"Meanwhile, my son, the hens, too, were strutting up and 
down, and in and out among their rivals; some, with wings 
brushing upon the ground; others, with a single wing spread 
out, against which they frequently kicked the nearest foot as 
they circled round each other. A continuous hissing was 
kept up, along with a shaking of heads from side to side, a 
ceremonious bowing, and a striking of bills upon the ground. 
Rut — though the cock was doing his best to dazzle them with 
the display of his charms — the hens appeared unconscious of 
his presence and indifferent to his advances. 

"There Ojistoh and I were gazing in silent admiration at the 
scene before us, when — without the shghtest warning, and as 
though dropped from the sky — another cock landed in the 
midst of the dancers. Immediately the cock of the dance 
rushed at the intruder and fiercely attacked him. 

"But the newcomer was ready. My son, you should have 
seen them. Bills and wings clashed together. In a moment 
feathers were flying and blood was running. But the hens 
never paused in their love dance. Again and again the 
feathered fighters dashed at each other, only to drop apart. 
Then, facing each other with drooping wings, ruffled plumes, 
extended necks, lowered heads, and gaping bills, they would 
gasp for breath. A moment later they would spring into the 
air and strike viciously at each other with bill and wing, then 
separate again. The sand was soon strewn with feathers and 
sprinkled with blood, yet the belhgerents kept renewing the 
deadly conflict. Unconcernedly, all the while, the stupid hens 
tripped to and fro in the evolutions of their love dance. 

"Already the intruder's scalp was torn; the left wing of the 
cock of the dance was broken; and both were bleeding copiously. 
It was a great fight, my son, and the end was near. At the 



270 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

next rush the intruder knocked the cock of the dance down, 
and leaping upon him, drove his bill into his skull, killing him. 

"After a brief rest to recover breath, the victor jumped 
over his late rival's body, took a short leap into the air, gave a 
back kick of contempt, flew up on the log, and looked round 
as though seeking for female applause. But the hens, with 
apparently never a thought of him, still kept up their dancing. 
Presently he, too, sounded his love call and drunomed his ac- 
companiment. Then, strutting up and down, he inspected 
the dancers. When he had made up his mind as to which was 
the belle of the dance, he made a rush for her. 

"But, my son, at that very moment a lynx sprang through 
the air, seized him by the neck, and bounded off with him 
among the bushes. In the confusion that followed, the hens 
flew away and I, seizing Ojistoh, kissed her. Startled, she 
leaped up, and with laughter ran away, but in hot pursuit I 
followed her." 

THE WAYS OF THE FEMALE 

"Ah, my son," commented Granny with a smile and a shake 
of her head as she drew her pipe from her mouth, "Nar-pim 
has always been like that . . . but he was worse in the 
days of his youth . . . fancy him taking a httle girl to see 
the love dance . . . the old rabbit!" 

"The old rabbit . . . indeed.^" Oo-koo-hoo questioned. 
"Why, it was just the other way round. It was you who 
wanted me to take you there; it was your hypocritical pretence 
of innocence that made me do it; and though, as you said, I 
took your hand, it was you who was always leading the way." 

Then was renewed the ancient and never-settled question 
as to who was at fault, the old Adam or the old Eve; but as 
Granny usually got the better of it by adding the last word, 
Oo-koo-hoo turned to me in disgust and grunted: 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 271 

"Listen to her . . . why, my son, it has always been 
the female that did the courting ... all down through 
the Great, Great Long Ago, it has ever been thus . . . and 
so it is to-day. Look at the cow of the moose, the doe of the 
deer, the she of the lynx, the female of the wolf, the she of the 
bear, the goose, the duck, the hen, and the female of the 
rabbit. What do they do when they want a mate? . . . 
They bellow and run, they meow and bow, they howl and 
prance, they twitter and dance . . . just as women have 
always done. And when the male comes, what does the female 
do.»^ She pretends indifference, she feigns innocence, she runs 
away, and stops to Ksten, afraid lest she has run too far; and then, 
if he does not follow, she comes deceitfully back again and pre- 
tends not even to see him. Remember, my son, that though 
the female always runs away, she never runs so fast that she 
couldn't run faster; and it makes no difference whether the 
female has wings or fins, flippers or feet, it is all the same . . . 
the female always does the courting." 

No doubt, had they ever met, Oo-koo-hoo and George Ber- 
nard Shaw would have become fast friends; for George, too, 
insists on the very same thing. But does not the average man, 
from his great store of conceit, draw the flattering inference 
that it is he and he alone who does the courting, and that his 
success is entirely due to his wonderful display of physical and 
mental charm; while the average woman looks in her mirror and 
laughs in her sleeve — less gown. 

Though for some time silence fiUed the tepee and the dogs 
were asleep beside the door, the pipes still glowed ; and Oo-koo- 
hoo, stirring the fire, mused aloud: 

"But, perhaps, my son, you wonder why the hen partridges 
dance that way and why the cock drums his accompaniment.^" 

"It does seem strange," I rephed. 

"But not, my son, if you know their history. It is an old, 
old story, and it began away back in the Great, Great, Long 



272 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Ago, even before it was the custom of our people to marry. It 
happened this way: Once there was an old chief who used 
oftentimes to go away alone into the woods and mount upon a 
high rock and sing his hunting songs and beat his drum. Since 
he was much in favom*, many women would come and hsten to 
his songs; also, they would dance before him — to attract his 
attention. 

"Now it came to pass on a certain day that a young chief 
of another tribe happened by chance upon that way. Hearing 
the drumming, he resolved to find out what it was about. Deep 
into the heart of the wood he followed the sound and came 
upon an open glade wherein were many women dancing before 
a huge boulder. Wondering, with great admiration, the young 
chief gazed upon their graceful movements and comely figures, 
and determined to rush in and capture the most beautiful of 
them. Turning thought into act, he bounded in among the 
dancers, and, to his amazement, discovered the old chief, who, 
at sight of him, dropped his drum, grasped his war club, and 
leaping down from his rocky eminence, rushed upon the young 
interloper in a frenzy of jealous fury. The women made no 
outcry; for, like the female moose or caribou, they love the 
victor. So to the accompaniment of the men's hard breathing 
and the clashing of their war clubs, they went unconcernedly 
on with their love dance. In the end the young chief slew the 
older one, and departed in triumph with the women. But, 
my son, when the Master of Life learned what had happened, 
he was exceeding wroth; insomuch that he tm-ned the young 
chief and the women into partridges. That is why the part- 
ridges dance the love dance even to this day." 

HUNTING WILD FOWL 

Next morning, while Oo-koo-hoo was examining a muskrat 
lodge from his canoe, he heard a sudden "honk, honk," and 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 273 

looking up he espied two Canada geese flying low and straight 
toward us; seizing his gun, he up with it and let drive at one 
of the geese as it was passing beyond him, and brought it down. 
He concluded that they had just arrived from the south and 
were seeking a place to feed. Later, we encountered at close 
range several more and the hunter secured another. 

As they were the first geese he had killed that season, he 
did not allow the women to touch them, but according to the 
Indian custom, dressed and cooked them himself; also, at 
supper time, he gave all the flesh to the rest of us, and saved for 
himself nothing but the part from which the eggs came. Further, 
he cautioned us not to laugh or talk while eating the geese, 
otherwise their spirits would be ofl'ended and he would have 
ill-luck for the rest of the season. And when the meal was 
finished he coUected all the bones and tossed them into the 
centre of the fire, so that they would be properly consumed 
instead of aUowing the dogs to eat them; and thus he warded 
off misfortune. 

As we sat by the fire that night Oo-koo-hoo busied himself 
making decoys for geese, by chopping blocks of dry pine into 
rough images of their bodies, and fashioning their necks and 
heads from bent wiUow sticks; as weU as roughly staining the 
completed models to represent the plumage. And while he 
worked he talked of the coming of the birds in spring. 

"My son, the first birds to arrive are the eagles; next, the 
snow-birds and the barking crows (ravens) ; then the big gray 
(Canada) geese, and the larger ducks; then the smaller kinds 
of geese and the smaUer kinds of ducks; and then the robins, 
blackbirds, and guHs. Then, as likely as not, a few days 
later, what is caUed a 'goose winter' — a heavy, wet snowstorm 
followed by colder weather — ^may come along and try to drive 
the birds all back again; but before the bad weather completes 
its useless work a timely south wind may arrive, and with the 
aid of a milder spell, will utterly destroy the 'goose winter' . 



274 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Then, after that, the sky soon becomes mottled with flying 
birds of many kinds : gray geese, laughing geese, waveys, and 
white geese, as well as great flocks of ducks of many kinds; 
also mud-hens, sawbills, waders, plovers, curlew, pehcans, 
swans, and cranes, both white and gray. Then another great 
flight of httle birds as well as loons. And last of all may come 
the little husky geese that travel farther north to breed their 
young than do those of any other kind." 

The next day the hunters built a "goose stand" on the sandy 
beach of Willow Point by making a screen about six feet long 
by three feet high of willow branches; and, as the ground was 
wet and cold, a brush mattress was laid behind the screen upon 
which the hunters could sit while watching for geese. The 
site was a good one, as WiUow Point jutted into the lake near a 
big marsh on its south side. Beyond the screen they set their 
decoys, some in the water and others on the sand, but all 
heading up wind. When they shot their first geese, the 
hunters cut off the wings and necks together with the heads 
and fastened them in a natural way upon the decoys. 

Oo-koo-hoo told me that when one wished to secure geese, 
he should be in readiness to take his position behind the stand 
before the first sign of morning sun. Furthermore, he told 
me that geese were usuaUy looking for open water and sandy 
beaches from eight to nine o'clock; from ten to twelve they 
preferred the marshes in order to feed upon goose grass and 
goose weed, as weU as upon the roots and seeds of other 
aquatic plants. Then from noon to four o'clock they sought the 
lakes to preen themselves; while from fom* to six they returned 
to the sandy beaches and then resorted to the marshes in which 
to spend the night. That was the usual procedure for from 
ten to fifteen days, then away they went to their more northern 
breeding grounds where they spent midsummer. 

Seeing a hawk soaring overhead, Oo-koo-hoo said it reminded 
him of a hawk that once bothered him by repeatedly swooping 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 275 

down among his dead-duck decoys, and each time he had to 
rush from his bHnd to drive the hawk away or it would have 
carried away one of his dead ducks; and being short of am- 
munition, he did not care to waste a shot. But he ended the 
trouble by taking up all his dead ducks save one. Then he 
removed the pointed iron from his muskrat spear, and ramming 
the butt of the iron into the sand, left it standing up beside the 
duck as though it had been a reed. The next time the hawk 
swooped down, he let it drive with full force at the dead duck, 
and thus impale itself on the muskrat spear. 

But one day, after the geese had passed on their northward 
journey, Oo-koo-hoo began making other decoys of a diiferent 
nature, and when I questioned him, he rephed that he was going 
to kill a few loons with his bow and eotow, as Granny wished 
to use the skins of their necks to make a work-bag for the 
Factor's wife at Fort Consolation. After shaping the decoys, 
he mixed together gunpowder, charcoal, and grease with which 
to paint the decoys black — save where he left spots of the hght- 
coloured wood to represent the white markings of those beautiful 
birds. When the decoys were eventually anchored in the bay 
they bobbed about on the ripphng water quite true to life and 
they even took an occasional dive, when the anchor thong ran 
taut. 

OO-KOO-HOO'S COURTING 

After supper, when we were talking about old customs, I 
questioned Oo-koo-hoo as to how the Indians married before it 
was the custom to go to the Post to get the clergyman to perform 
that rite; and in reply he said : 

"My son, Ojistoh and I were married both ways, so I don't 
think I can do better than to tell you how our own marriage 
took place. It was this way, my son: one night, when old 
Noo-koom, Ojistoh's grandmother, became convinced that we 
lovers had sat under the blanket long enough, she decided that 



276 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

it was time we sat upon the brush together, or were married. 
Accordingly, she talked the matter over with Ojistoh's parents. 
They agreed with her, and Ojistoh's father said: Tt is well that 
Oo-koo-hoo and Ojistoh should be married according to the 
custom of our people, but it is also well that we should retain 
the friendship of the priest and the nuns. On our return to 
Fort Perseverance, therefore, the children must be married 
in the face of the Church; but I charge you all not to let any 
one at the Post know that Oo-koo-hoo and Ojistoh have already 
been married after the custom of our people. It is well that we 
should hve according to the ways of our forefathers, and it is 
also well that we should seem to adopt the ways of the white 
man. Now call Ojistoh, and let me hear what she has to say.' 

"When Ojistoh came in, her father told her that I was a good 
boy; that I would certainly make a successful hunter; and that, 
if she would sit upon the brush with me, they would give her 
plenty of marrow grease for her hair and some porcupine quills 
for her moccasins. They might even buy her some ribbon, 
beads, and silk thread for fancy work. Furthermore, they said 
I would be given enough moose skins to make a lodge covering. 

"Ojistoh chewed meditatively upon the large piece of spruce 
gum in her mouth, while she listened with averted eyes and 
drooping head. But old Noo-koom, evidently supposing 
Ojistoh to be in doubt, interposed: 'You must sit upon the 
brush with him, because I have promised that you would. 
Did we not eat the fat and the blood, and use the firewood 
he left at our door,^' 

"The remembrance, no doubt, of all that dainty eating 
decided Ojistoh, and she gave her word that she would sit 
upon the brush with me if they would promise to buy her a 
bottle of perfume when they returned to Fort Perseverance. 
When Ojistoh left the lodge, her father said to me: 

"'Listen, my boy, Noo-koom tells me that you have been 
sitting under the blanket with my daughter Ojistoh. She is a 



LIFE AND LOVE BETURN 277 

good girl and will make you happy; for she can make good 
moccasins.' 

"'Yes,' I repHed, 'I know the girl and I want her.' 

" 'To-morrow, then,' said her father, 'you must sit upon the 
brush with her. I will tell the women to prepare the feast.' 

"Next morning Ojistoh sat waiting in her lodge for me to 
come. Already she wore the badge of womanhood, for not 
having a new dress she had simply reversed her old one and 
buttoned it up in front instead of the back. For it is the cus- 
tom of Ojibway girls to button their dresses behind and for 
meirried women to button theirs in front. 

"My son, you should have seen me that morning, for I was 
bedecked in all my finery, and upon entering Noo-koom's 
lodge, I seized Ojistoh by the hair of her head, and dragged her 
out. Her struggles to escape from me were quite edifying in 
their propriety. Her shrieks were heartrending — or rather, 
they would have been had they not alternated with delighted 
giggles. By that time the wedding march had begun; for as 
we strugghng lovers led the way, the children, bubbhng with 
laughter, followed; and the old people brought up the rear of 
the joyous procession. We, the happy couple, tussled with 
each other imtil we reached a spot in the bush where I had 
cleared a space and laid a carpet of balsam brush beside a fire. 
There I deposited her. With a final shriek she accepted the 
new conditions, and at once set about her matrimonial duties, 
while the others returned to their lodges to put the finishing 
touches to the wedding breakfast. 

"Oh, yes, my son, those were happy days," continued the 
hunter. ' ' There, beside a great fire in the open, was laid a carpet 
of brush, in the centre of which a blanket was spread, and upon 
it the feast. There were rabbits, partridges, and fish roasted 
upon sticks. In a pot, boiled fresh moose and caribou meat; 
in another, simmered lynx entrails, bear fat, and moose steak. 
In a third, stewed ducks and geese. In a fourth, bubbled 



278 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

choice pieces of beaver, muskrat, lynx, and skunk. Besides, 
there were caribou tongues, beaver tails, bear meat, and foxes' 
entrails roasted upon the coals. Strong tea in plenty, fresh 
birch syrup, forest-made cranberry wine, a large chunk of dried 
Saskatoon berries served with bear's grease, frozen cranberries, 
and a little bannock made of flour, water, and grease, completed 
the fare. 

"Then, too, Ojistoh sat beside me and ate out of my dish. 
She even used my pipe for an after-dinner smoke. Then, after 
an interval of rest, dancing began, by the dancers circling the 
fire to the measured beat of a drum. Round and round we 
moved in silence. Then, breaking into a chant, we men faced 
the women, and from time to time solemnly revolved. But the 
women never turned their backs upon the fire. It was rather 
slow, monotonous measure, only reheved by the women and 
children throwing feathers at one another. Between each 
dance the company partook of refreshments, and so the festivity 
proceeded until dayhght. Next morning Ojistoh's father 
gave us some wholesome advice and then we set up housekeep- 
ing on our own account, and, as you see, have continued it 
even to this day; haven't we, my httle Ojistoh.^^" smiled the 
old hunter at his wife. 

nature's sanctuaries 

One Sunday morning, when spring was all a-dance to the 
wondrous wild music of the woods, I sat in the w armth of the 
sun and thought of my Creator. Later, I learned that Oo-koo- 
hoo and Amik were also thinking of Him; for in the wilderness 
one often thinks of The Master of Life. That morning I 
thought, too, of the tolhng of village chm-ch bells and of cathe- 
dral chimes, and I contrasted those metallic sounds with the 
beautiful singing of the birds of the forest; also I contrasted the 
difference of a Sunday in the city with a Sunday in the wilder- 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 279 

ness; and my soul rested in supreme contentment. Yet the 
ignorant city dwellers think of the wilderness as "God-for- 
saken." Hunt the world over, and could one find any more 
holy places than some of Nature's sanctuaries.'^ I have found 
many, but I shall recall but one, a certain grove on the Alaskan 
border. 

It was in one of the wildest of all wild regions of the northern 
world. "God-forsaken" . . . indeed.^ In truth, it seemed 
to be the very home of God. There, between the bases of two 
towering perpendicular ranges of mountains, mantled by end- 
less snows and capped by eternal ice, lay the wildest of all 
box-canons : one end of which was blocked by a barrier of snow 
hundreds of feet high and thousands of feet thick — the work 
of countless avalanches; while the other end was blocked by a 
bairrier of eternal ice thousands of feet in width and millions 
of tons in weight — a hving and growing glacier. And there, 
away dowTi at the very bottom of that wild gorge, beside a 
roaring, leaping Uttle river of seething foam, grew a beautiful 
grove of trees ; and never a time did I enter there but what I 
thought of it as holy ground — far more holy than any cathedral 
I have ever known . . . for there, in that grove, one seemed 
to stand in the presence of God. 

There, in that grove, the great reddish-brown boles of Sitka 
spruces — four and five feet in diameter — towered up hke many 
huge architectural columns as they supported the ruggedly 
beamed and evergreen ceiling that domed far overhead. High 
above an altar-like mass of rock, completely mantled with gor- 
geously coloured mosses, an opening shone in the gray-green 
wall, and through it filtered long slanting beams of sunfight, 
as though coming through a leaded, sky-blue, stained-glass 
window of some wonderful cathedral. WTiile upon the grove's 
mossy floor stood, row upon row, a mass of luxuriant ferns 
that almost covered the velvet carpet, and seemed to form 
endless seats in readiness for the coming of some congrega- 



280 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

tion. But on only one occasion did I ever see a worshipper 
there. 

Weary from the weight of a heavy pack — seventy-five 
pounds of dynamite — I had paused to rest a moment in that 
wonderful place which so few human beings had ever discovered; 
where, too, on passing through, it was always my custom to 
remove my hat — ^just as any one would do on entering a 
church. There that day, as I stood gazing at the glorious 
sunbeams as they filtered through the great chancel window, 
I hstened to the enchanting music of the feathered choir high 
overhead, that seemed to be singing to the accompaniment of 
one of Nature's most powerful organs — the roaring river — that 
thundered aloud, as, with aU its force, it wildly rolled huge 
boulders down its rocky bed. Then, lowering my eyes, I dis- 
covered the one and only worshipper I ever saw there. He was 
standing near a side aisle in the shadow of an alcove, and he, 
too, was gazing up at those radiant sunbeams and hstening to 
the choir; moreover, notwithstanding that he was a big brown 
bear, he appeared too devout even to notice me — perhaps be- 
cause he, too, felt the holy presence of "The Great Mystery" 
. . . our God. 

Yes, my friend, it is my belief that if there is any place on 
earth that is "God-forsaken," it is not to be found in even 
the wildest part of the wildest wilderness, but in that cesspool 
called a city. 

GOING TO THE POST 

After half of May had passed away, and when the spring 
hunt was over, Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, poling up the turbulent 
Httle streams, and following as closely as possible the routes 
of their fur trails, went the round of their trapping paths, re- 
moved their snares, sprung their deadfalls, and gathering their 
steel traps loaded them aboard their canoes. That work com- 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 281 

pleted, packing began in readiness for the postward journey; 
there, as usual, they would spend their well-earned holidays 
with pleasure upon their tribal summer camping grounds. 

So, when all was in readiness, the deerskin lodge coverings 
were taken down, rolled up, and stored out of harm's way upon 
a stage. Then, with hearts hght with happiness and canoes 
heavy with the wealth of the forest, we paddled away with 
pleasant memories of oiur forest home, and looked forward to 
our arrival at Fort Consolation. 

Soon after entering Rear River the canoes were turned 
toward the western bank and halted at a point near one of their 
old camping grounds. Then Naudin — Amik's wife — left the 
others, and took her way among the trees to an opening in the 
wood. There stood two little wooden crosses that marked the 
graves of two of her children — one a still-born girl and the 
other a boy who had died at the age of three. Upon the boy's 
grave she placed some food and a little bow and some arrows, 
and bowed low over it and wept aloud. Rut at the grave of her 
still-born child she forgot her grief and smiled with joy as she 
placed upon the mound a handful of fresh flowers, a few pretty 
feathers, and some handsome furs. Sitting there in the warm 
sunshine, she closed her eyes — as she told me afterward — 
and fancied she heard the httle maid dancing among the 
rusthng leaves and singing to her. 

Like all Indian women of the Strong Woods, she beheved 
that her still-born child would never grow larger or older; that 
it would never leave her; that it would always love her, though 
she lived to be a great-grandmother; that when sorrow and pain 
bowed her low this httle maid would laugh and dance and talk 
and sing to her, and thus change her grief into joy. That is 
why an Indian mother puts pretty things upon the grave of her 
still-born child, and that is why she never mourns over it. 

As our journey progressed those enemies of comfort and 
pleasure, the black flies, appeared, and at sunrise and sunset 



282 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

caused much annoyance, especially among the children. Then, 
too, at night if the breeze subsided, mosquitoes swarmed from 
the leeward side of bushes and drove slmnber away. 

One afternoon, while resting, we observed signs of beaver and 
Oo-koo-hoo, being reminded of an incident he once witnessed, 
related it to me: 

"Once, my son, while paddling alone, I rounded the bend 
of a river, and hearing a splash just beyond the turn, silently 
propelled my canoe beneath a screen of overhanging branches. 
After waiting and watching awhile, I saw an otter fishing in the 
stream. A moment later I beheld a beaver — evidently a 
female — swimming just beyond the otter, and pm-sued by two 
other beavers — evidently males. The males, perceiving the 
otter swimming in the direction of the female, probably came 
to the conclusion that he was about to pay his court to her, 
for they suddenly swerved from their course and attacked the 
innocent otter. He dived to escape his assailants, and they 
dived after him. When he rose for breath, they came up, too, 
and made after him; so he dived again. Evidently, they were 
trying to wind their quarry, for whenever he came up for 
breath they endeavoured to reach him before he got it. In a 
short time they had so exhausted him that he refused to dive 
again before he gained his breath. He made for the shore. 
The beavers rushed after him, overtook him, and just as he 
gained the bank, ripped his throat open. Then I shot one of the 
beavers and tossed it into my canoe along with the otter." 

The journey to the Post was a delight all the way — save 
when the flies were busy. One night those almost invisible 
little torments, the sand flies, caused us — or rather me — much 
misery until Granny built such a large fire that it attracted the 
attention of the httle brutes, and into it they all dived, or ap- 
parently did — ^just as she said they would — for in less than half 
an hour not a single sand fly remgiined. 

On our way to God's Lake we had considerable sport in the 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 283 

way of shooting white-water. One morning we landed at the 
head of a portage, and, as the rapid was not a dangerous one, 
Oo-koo-hoo and Amik determined to run it, but first went 
ashore to examine the channel. On their return Oo-koo-hoo 
instructed the others to follow his lead about four canoe-lengths 
apart, so that in case of mishap they could help each other. 
Down the canoes plunged one after the other. The children 
wielded their little paddles, screaming with delight as they 
swiftly glided through the foaming spray past shores stiU lined 
here and there with walls of ice. 

As the canoes rounded a sharp bend in the rapid Oo-koo-hoo 
descried a black bear walking on the ice that overhung the 
eastern bank. The animal seemed as much surprised as any 
of us, and, instead of making off, rose upon its haunches and 
gazed in amazement at the passing canoes. Rut as we swept 
by there was no thought of firing guns. The sight of the bear 
reminded Oo-koo-hoo of an experience some friends of his once 
had with a black bear; and when we reached slack water he told 
it to me. 

The friends in question were a mother and her daughter, 
and late one afternoon they were retmriing from berry pick- 
ing. As they rounded a bend in the river the daughter in the 
bow suddenly stopped paddhng, and — without turning her 
face toward her mother in the stern — excitedly whispered: 
''Muskwa! Muskwar 

Then as the older woman caught sight of a dark object fifty 
paces away, she uttered a few hurried conmiands. Roth fell 
to paddhng with all their might. With straining backs, stiff- 
ened arms, and bending blades, they fairly hfted the canoe at 
every stroke; and the waters gave a tearing sound as the slash- 
ing blades sent little whirlpools far behind. Their hearts 
were fired with the spirit of the chase, and — though their only 
weapons were their skinning knives — they felt no fear. On 
they raced to head the bear, who was swimming desperately 



284 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

to gain the shore. They overhauled him. He turned at 
bay. The daughter soused a blanket in the water and threw 
it over his head. The mother in the stern reached over as the 
canoe ghded by, seized him by an ear as he struggled blindly 
beneath the smothering mantle, and drove her knife into his 
throat. A broad circle of crimson colom^ed the water round the 
blanket. The canoe was quickly brought about; the mother 
shpped a noose over his head, and in triumph they towed the 
carcass to their camp. 

On the last morning of our trip there was a flutter of pleasant 
excitement among our httle party; and by the time the sun 
appeared and breakfast was over, everybody was laughing and 
talking, for we had made such progress that we expected to 
reach Fort Consolation by ten o'clock that forenoon. Quickly 
we loaded the canoes again, and away we paddled. In a few 
hours the beautiful expanse of God's Lake appeared before us. 
When we sighted the old fort, a joyous shout rang out; paddles 
were waved overhead, and tears of joy rose to the eyes of the 
women — and of some of the men. 

Going ashore, we quickly made our toilets, donning our very 
finest in order to make a good appearance on our arrival at 
the Fort — as is the custom of the Northland. Bear's grease 
was employed with lavish profusion, even Oo-koo-hoo and Amik 
and the boys using it on their hair; while the women and girls 
greased and wove their tresses into a single elongated breiid 
which hung down behind. The men put on their fancy silk- 
worked moccasins; tied silk handkerchiefs about their necks — 
the reverse of cow-boy fashion — and beaded garters around 
their legs; while the women placed many brass rings upon their 
fingers, bright plaid shawls about their shoulders, gay silk 
handkerchiefs over their heads, and beaded leggings upon their 
legs. How I regretted I had not brought along my top-hat — 
that idiotic symbol of civihzation — for if I could have worn it 
on that occasion, the Indians at Fort Consolation would have 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 285 

been so Med with merriment that they would have in all 
probabiHty remembered me for many a year as the one white 
man with a sense of humour. 

For in truth, it is just as Ohiyesa (Charles A. Eastman) 
the full-blooded Sioux, says in his book on Indian Boyhood: 
"There is scarcely anything so exasperating to me as the idea 
that the natives of this country have no sense of humour and 
no faculty for mirth. This phase of their character is well 
understood by those whose fortune or misfortune it has been 
to live among them day in and day out at their homes. I don't 
believe I ever heard a real hearty laugh away from the Indians' 
fireside. I have often spent an entire evening in laughing with 
them until I could laugh no more." 

CONTEST OF WITS 

When we arrived at Fort Consolation, Oo-koo-hoo and his 
party were greeted by a swarm of their copper-coloured friends, 
among whom were The Little Pine and his father, mother, and 
sister. Making his way through the press, The Owl strode 
toward the trading room to shake hands with Factor Macken- 
zie; but the trader, hearing of Oo-koo-hoo 's arrival, hastened 
from his house to welcome the famous hunter; and The Owl 
greeted him with: 

''Quay, quay, Hu-ge-mow'' (good day, Master). 

On their way to the Indian shop they passed the canoe shed, 
where skilled hands were finishing two handsome six-fathom 
canoes for the use of the Fur Brigade; and they stopped to 
examine them. 

The building of a six-fathom or "North" canoe generally 
takes place under a shed erected for the purpose, where there is 
a clear, level space and plenty of working room. Two principal 
stakes are driven at a distance apart of thirty-six feet, the length 
of the craft to be. These are connected by two rows of 



286 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

smaller stakes diverging and converging so as to form the 
shape of the canoe. The smaller stakes are five feet apart at 
the centre. Pieces of birch bark are soaked in water for a day 
and no more, sewn together with wat-tap — the roots of cedar or 
spruce gathered in spring — placed between the stakes with the 
outer side down, and then made fast. The well-soaked ribs 
are then put in place and as soon as they are loaded with 
stones the bark assumes its proper form. The gunwales, 
into which the ends of the ribs are mortised, are bound into 
position with wat-tap. The thwarts are next adjusted. The 
stones and stakes are then removed; the seams are covered 
with a mixture of one part grease to nine parts spruce gum; 
the craft is tested, and is then held in readiness for its maiden 
voyage. 

On entering the Indian shop or trading room, Oo-koo-hoo 
was ready to talk about anything under the sun save business, 
as he wanted to force the Trader to solicit his patronage; but 
as the Factor was trying to make the hunter do the same thing, 
they parted company a little later without having mentioned 
the word "trade." 

No wonder the Indians are glad to return to their tribal 
summer camping grounds ; for it is there that they rest and play 
and spend their summer holidays. It is there, too, that the 
young people enjoy the most favourable opportunity for doing 
their courting; as every event — such as the departure or the 
return of the Fur Brigade — calls for a festival of dancing which 
not infrequently lasts for several days. Also, in many other 
ways, the boys and girls have chances of becoming acquainted. 
Since young hunters often claim their sweethearts during the 
winter, many "marriages" take place after the Indian fashion. 
On their return to the Post, however, the young couples are 
generally married over again, and this time after the white 
man's custom — "in the face of the Church." The way the 
young people "keep company" at the summer camping 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 287 

grounds presents no feature of special interest. It is during 
the winter season in the forest many miles beyond the Post 
that the old customs have full sway. The re-marrying the 
young couples "in the face of the Church" frequently de- 
mands extreme vigilance, for in the confusion of the matri- 
monial busy season when the Indians first come in the little 
papoose is apt to be christened — unless the clergyman is very 
careful — before the parents have had time to arrange for their 
church wedding. 

Meanwhile, the women having erected the canvas lodge 
and put in order one of their last-year's birch-bark wigwams, 
called upon the Factor's wife and presented her with a hand- 
some work-bag made of beautifully marked skins from the 
necks of the loons Oo-koo-hoo had shot with his bow and arrow 
for that purpose. 

After leaving the Indian shop, the hunter returned to his 
camp to talk matters over with Amik and the women. He 
told them that he intended selhng most of his furs to the 
Company, but that he thought it wise to stay away from the 
Factor until next day. But as Granny, being a Roman 
Cathohc, wanted to have Father Jois marry Neykia and The 
Little Pine, she suggested that Oo-koo-hoo go and call upon the 
priest at once. Notwithstanding that her mother was a 
Presbyterian, Neykia had joined the Roman Catholic Church 
and when asked why she had done so, she said it was because 
she thought the candles looked so pretty burning on the 
altar. 

Though The Owl was not in the least interested in any one 
of the white man's many religions, nor in the priest, the clergy- 
man, or the minister of the three different denominations rep- 
resented at the Post, he now called upon the priest as his 
wife wished him to. During the course of their conversation 
the priest said : 

" My son, that was a beautiful silver fox you sold the Com- 



288 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

pany three years ago. I, myself, would have paid you well 
for it." 

*' Would you look as well upon a black fox?" asked Oo-koo- 
hoo in surprise, as it is an unwritten law of the country that 
missionaries are not to carry on trade with the Indians. 

"Yes. Have you one? " questioned the priest. 

" I have never seen a finer," replied the hunter. 

"But do either of the traders know you have it?" asked the 
priest. 

"No," answered Oo-koo-hoo, with a shake of his head. 

Later, when the priest saw the skin, he was delighted with it, 
and a bargain was soon made. Oo-koo-hoo was to get one 
hundred "skins" for the black fox, and he was told to call next 
day. But after returning to camp, he grew impatient and 
went back to the priest to demand his pay. The priest said he 
would give him a tent and a rifle worth more than fifty skins 
and that he would say ten masses for him and his family, which 
would be a very generous equivalent for the other fifty skins. 
But Oo-koo-hoo, suddenly flaring up, began to storm at the 
priest, and demanded the black fox back. But the priest 
sternly motioned for silence with upraised hand, and whispered : 
" This is God's House. There must be no noise or anger here." 
And without another word he withdrew to get the rifle and 
the tent. When he returned with an old tent and a second- 
hand rifle, Oo-koo-hoo would not deign to touch them. With- 
out more ado, he turned on his heel and walked away. 

On reaching camp, the old hunter learned from the children 
that the women had gone to pay a visit to the nuns; so he 
foUowed them, and, without even speaking to the Sisters, 
ordered the women to come home. On the way he eased his 
wrath by telling them that never again would he buy prayers 
or masses from the priest with black fox skins, and that if they 
ever wanted masses, he would pay for them with nothing but 
the skins of skunks. He did not see why he had to pay for 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 289 

masses, anyway, when Free Trader Spear had made them a 
standing offer of all the prayers they wanted free of charge, 
provided that he, Oo-koo-hoo, would trade with him. He 
added that he had half a mind to accept Spear's offer, just to 
spite the priest. 

So after meditating for a while upon his steadfast belief 
that any fool of an Indian is better than a white man, and that 
the only good white men are the dead ones, he got into his 
canoe and paddled across the lake to interview the opposition 
trader. 

When he told Spear what a splendid black fox he had, and 
how the priest had aheady offered him a hundred skins for 
it, the Free Trader said : 

"I'll give you a hundred and ten for it," and the old repro- 
bate added, "and I'll throw into the bargain half-a-dozen 
prayers for the women." 

The offer was at once accepted. On handing over the goods 
to Oo-koo-hoo, the trader asked where the black fox was, and 
was told that it was in keeping of the priest. So without delay 
Mr. Spear paddled back with The Owl to get the skin. When 
the priest learned how the hunter had stolen a march on him, 
he was righteously indignant; but he dared not complain, since 
he was not supposed to deal in furs. There was nothing to do 
but hand over the magnificent skin to the Free Trader although 
he knew right well that in London or Paris it would bring 
twenty times the price paid for it. 

Next day old Granny came crying to Oo-koo-hoo and com- 
plaining that the priest had refused to officiate at the wedding 
on the day agreed upon. The nuns had told her that his re- 
fusal was due to his determination to discipline The Owl for 
his rudeness and irreverence. That seemed to worry the 
hunter considerably, for, though he cared nothing for the 
priest's benediction, he did want the wedding to come off upon 
the day appointed. It touched his pride to be balked in his 



290 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

plans. He had already invited all the Indians at the Post to 
the ceremony. Great preparations were being made. If 
the wedding were put off even a single day, everybody would be 
curious to know why; and sooner or later it would be known 
that he had had to bow to the will of the priest. The thought 
rankled. So he went to the Factor and told him the whole 
affair. 

"Ma brither," said the Factor, "we are auld freens; it is 
weel that we shud staun' thegither. If ye will trade a' yir furs 
wi' me this day, I'll get the meenister o' the Presybyterian 
Kirk tae mairry yir gran'dochter. He'll be gled eneuch tae 
gi'e Father Jois a clour by mairryin' twa o' his fowk. Sell me 
yir furs, an' I'll warrant ye ye'U hae the laff on Father Jois." 

MISSIONARIES AND INDIANS 

That settled it. Factor Mackenzie got all the furs Oo-koo- 
hoo and his family possessed. The Factor and the hunter 
were now the best of friends, and they even went so far as to 
exchange presents — and that's going some . . . for a 
Scotsman. 

Should the foregoing amuse the Protestant reader, the follow- 
ing may be of interest to the Roman Catholic. One winter, 
while halting at a certain Hudson's Ray post, I met a Protestant 
clergyman, who having spent a number of years as a missionary 
among the natives on the coast of Hudson Ray excited my 
interest as to his work among the Indians. That night, after 
supper, I questioned him as to his spiritual work among the 
"barbarians" of the forest, and in the presence of the Hud- 
son's Ray trader, he turned to me and, with the air of being 
intensely bored by the subject, he replied: "Mr. Heming . . . 
the only interest I ever take in the Indian ... is when I 
bury him." 

Rut while I have cited two types of clergymen I have known 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 291 

— the neime of the priest being, of course, fictitious — merely to 
point out the kind of missionaries that should never be sent 
among the Indians, I not only wish to state that they are very 
much the exception to the rule, but I also want to make known 
my unbounded respect and admiration for that host of splendid 
men — and women — of all denominations, who have devoted 
their lives to the spiritual welfare of the people of the wilder- 
ness, and some of whom have already left behind them hallowed 
names of imperishable memory. 

But the lot of the missionary among the Indians is not 
altogether a joyous one. In his distant and isolated outpost 
there are privations to endure and hardships to suffer. Fre- 
quently, too, it happens that he is placed in a position exceed- 
ingly embarrassing to a man of gentle breeding and kindly 
spirit. 

A weU-known Canadian priest was being entertained by 
an Indian family. The hospitable old grandmother undertook 
to prepare a meal for him. Determined to set before the 
"black-robe" a really dainty dish — something after the 
fashion of a Hamburg steak — and possessing no machine for 
mincing the meat, she simply chewed it up nice and fine in her 
own mouth. After cooking it to a turn, she set it before her 
honoured guest, and was at a loss to understand why the good 
man had so suddenly lost his appetite. 

But there is often a brighter and also a graver side to the 
missionary's life among the red men. Incidents occur which 
appeal irresistibly to his sense of humour. 

One Sunday afternoon a certain noted bishop of the English 
Church in Canada, who had spent most of his life as a mis- 
sionary in the far Northwest, was discoursing at considerable 
length to a band of Dog-rib Indians camped at the mouth of 
Hay River on Great Slave Lake. His Lordship dwelt earnestly 
upon the virtue of brotherly love, and enlarged upon the beauty 
of the Divine saying — "It is more blessed to give than to re- 



292 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

ceive." After the service an old Indian walked up to the 
preacher, piously repeated the sacred text, and intimated that 
he was prepared to become the hmnble instrument for bringing 
upon his reverence the promised blessing. To that end he was 
willing to receive his lordship's hat. 

The good bishop was taken aback. Realizing, however, 
that there was nothing else for him to do, he took off his hat and 
bestowed it with commendable cheerfulness upon his new 
disciple. 

Another red man, jealous of his brother who was now parad- 
ing in all the splendour of the bishop's hat, claimed upon the 
same ground the prelate's gaiters, and received them. 

The two Indians, envious each of the other's acquisition, 
began to discuss with growing anger the comparative value 
of the articles. Unable to arrive at an agreement, they resolved 
to put up the hat and gaiters as a stake and gamble for them. 

The impressive head-gear and antique gaiters of an Anglican 
bishop never appeared to greater advantage than they did 
upon the old Indian, the winner of the game, when he proudly 
strutted before his dusky, admiring brethren, displaying on 
head and bare legs the Episcopal insignia, and having for his 
only other garment an old shirt whose dingy tail fluttered 
coyly in the summer breeze. 

neykia's wedding 

At ten o'clock, on the morning of Neykia's wedding, a motley 
mass of natives clothed in many colours crowded about the 
little church, which, for lack of space, they could not enter. 
Presently the crowd surged back from the door and formed on 
either side of the path, leaving an opening down the centre. 
A tall half-breed with a shock of wavy black hair stepped 
from the doorway, raised his violin, and adjusting it into posi- 
tion, struck up a hvely tune to the accompaniment of the 




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LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 293 

wailing of a broken concertina played by another half-breed 
who preceded the newly married couple. Neykia wore a silk 
handkerchief over her head, a light-coloured cotton waist open 
at the throat, a silk sash over one shoulder, and a short skirt 
reveaHng beaded leggings and moccasins. Behind the bride 
and groom walked Oo-koo-hoo and the fathers of the bridal 
couple, then the mothers and the rest of the relations, while 
the clergy and the other guests brought up the rear. As the 
little procession moved along, the men, lined up on either side 
of the path, crossed their guns over the heads of the wedding 
party, and discharged a. feu de joie. 

On reaching a certain log-house the procession broke up. 
The older people went in to partake of the wedding breakfast, 
while the bride and groom went over to one of the warehouses 
and amused themselves dancing with their young friends until 
they were summoned to the second table of the marriage feast. 
Everybody at the Post had contributed something toward 
either the feast or the dance. Out of respect for Oo-koo-hoo 
the Factor had furnished a Hberal stock of groceries and had, in 
addition, granted the free use of the buildings. The clerk had 
sent in a quantity of candies and tobacco. The priest had 
given potatoes; the clergyman had supphed a copy of the 
Bible in syllabic characters; and the minister had given the 
silver-plated wedding ring. The nuns had presented a supply 
of skim-milk and butter. Mr. Spear provided jam, pickles, and 
coal-oil for the lamps. The Mounted Police contributed two 
dollars to pay for the "band" — the fiddle and the concertina — 
and anamunition enough for the feu de joie. The friends and 
relations had given a plentiful store of fresh, dried, and pounded 
fish; and had also furnished a lavish supply of moose, caribou, 
and bear meat; as well as dainty bits of beaver, lynx, muskrat, 
and skunk. 

The bridal party having dined, they and their elders opened 
the ball officially. The first dance was — as it always is — the 



294 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Double Jig, then followed in regular order the same dances as 
those of the New Year's feast. After a frolic of several hours' 
duration some of the dancers grew weary and returned to 
the banquet room for refreshments. And thus for three days 
and three nights the festivities continued. 

THE WEDDING SPEECHES 

During a lull in the dancing on the afternoon of the wedding 
day Little Pine's sister went up to him and said: "Brother, 
may I kiss you? Are you ashamed?" He answered: "No." 
She kissed him, took his wife's hand, placed it in his with her 
own over both, and addressed the young wife : 

"As you have taken my place, do to him as I have done; 
listen to him, work for him, and, if need be, die for him." 

Then she lowered her head and began to cry. 

Ne-Geek, The Otter, Neykia's oldest brother, then went up 
to Little Pine and asked : 

"Are you man enough to work for her, to feed her, and to 
protect her?" 

"Yes," replied the new-made husband. 

The Otter put the husband's hand on his sister's hand, 
and — looking him straight in the eyes . . . shook his 
clenched fist at him and said in a threatening tone . . . "Be- 
ware!" 

In the midst of one of the dances Oo-koo-hoo walked up 
to the "band" and knocked up the fiddle to conmaand silence. 
Pulling his capote tightly about him, he assumed a dignified 
attitude, slowly looked round the room to see that he had 
the attention of all present, and began to address the 
assemblage : 

"The step which Shing-wauk has taken is a very serious 
one. Now he will have to think for two. Now he must sup- 
ply the wants of two. Now he will realize what trouble is. 



LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 295 

But the One who made us . . . The Great Mystery . . . 
The Master of Life . . . made us right. The man has his 
work to do, and the woman has hers. The man must hunt and 
kill animals, and the woman must skin and dress them. The 
man must always stand by her and she by him. The two to- 
gether are strong . . . and there is no need of outside 
assistance. Remember . . . my grandchildren . . . 
you are starting out together that way . . ." 

To illustrate his meaning, he held up two fingers parallel, 
and added: 

"If your tracks fork . . . they will soon be as far 
apart as sunrise is from sunset . . . and you will find 
many ready to come in between. Carry on in the way you 
have begun ... for that is the way you should end. And 
remember ... if your tracks once fork . . . they 
will never come together again . . . my grandchildren 
. . . I have spoken." 

After Little Pine's father, as well as several of the guests, had 
made their remarks, Naudin, Neykia's mother, rose to address 
her daughter. Overcome with nervousness, she pulled her 
shawl so far over her face as to leave only a tiny peep-hole 
through which to look. Hesitatingly she began: 

"My daughter, you never knew what trouble is, now you 
will know. You never knew what hard work is, now you will 
soon learn. Never let your husband want for anything. 
Never allow another woman to do anything for him; if you 
do . . . you are lost. When you have children, my 
daughter, and they grow up, your sons will always be sons to 
you, even though they be gray-headed. But with your daugh- 
ters it will not be so; when they marry, they will be lost to 
you. Once married, they are gone for ever." 

She stepped up to her daughter, kissed her, and sank to the 
floor, weeping copiously. 

Then Amik rose to speak. He beckoned to his daughter. 



296 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

She advanced and knelt down, holding the fringe of his legging 
while he addressed her : 

"Neykia, my daughter, you have taken this man. Be good 
to him, work for him, hve for him, and if need be, die for him. 
Kiss me, Neykia, my daughter; kiss me for the last time." 

She kissed him, and he added : 

"You have kissed me for the last time: henceforth never 
kiss any man but your husband." 

Raising his hand with untutored dignity, he pronounced the 
words : 

"Remember . . . I have spoken." 



VIII 
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 

FAREWELL ATHABASCA 

Though Wawe Pesim (The Egg Moon), or June, had al- 
ready brought summer to the Great Northern Forest, the 
beautiful Athabasca still waited in vain. Son-in-law had not 
yet appeared. After all — was he but a fond parents' dream .^ 
I wondered. 

Soon the picturesque and romantic Fur Brigade would be 
sweeping southwcird on its voyage from the last entrenchments 
of the Red Gods to the newest outposts of civihzation — a civili- 
zation that has debauched, infected, plundered, and murdered 
the red man ever since its first onset upon the eastern shores 
of North America. If you don't believe this, read history, 
especially the history of the American fur trade. 

Meanwhile, canoes laden with furs and in charge of Hudson's 
Bay traders or clerks from outlying "Flying Posts" had 
arrived; and among the voyageurs was that amusing character. 
Old Billy Brass. A Httle later, too, Chief Factor Thompson 
arrived from the North. Now in the fur loft many hands were 
busily engaged in sorting, folding, and packing in collapsible 
moulds — that determined the size and shape of the fur packs — 
a great variety of skins. Also they were energetically weighing, 
cording, and covering the fur packs with burlap — leaving two 
ears of that material at each end to facilitate handling them, 
as each pack weighed eighty pounds. 

A fur pack of one hundred pounds — for the weight varies 
according to the difficulty of transportation in certain regions — 

297 



298 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

contains on an average fourteen bear, sixty otter, seventy 
beaver, one hundred and ten fox skins, or six hundred muskrat 
skins. A pack of assorted furs contains about eighty skins and 
the most vahiable ones are placed in the centre. 

During the next few days the great "North" or six-fathom 
canoes — made of birch bark and capable of carrying from three 
to four tons of freight in addition to their crews of from eight to 
twelve men — were brought out of the canoe house, and to- 
gether with the two new ones, had their bows and sterns 
painted white in readiness for their finishing touch of decora- 
tion in the way of some symbol of the fur trade. 

As the principal Indian canoemen, who were to join the Fur 
Brigade, were already famihar with my ability as an artist, 
they waited upon the Factor and requested him to solicit 
my help in the final decorating of those beautiful canoes. So 
it came to pass that on the bow of one a leaping otter appeared 
and on the bows of others, a rearing bear, a flying goose, a 
rampant caribou, a galloping fox, a leaping lynx, a rampant 
moose, and on still another the coat-of-arms of the Hudson's 
Bay Company. Each in turn had its admirers, but Oo-koo- 
hoo, who was to have charge of all the voyageurs, sidled up to 
Factor Mackenzie and whispered that if Hu-ge-mow — Master 
— would let him take his choice of the canoes, he would not 
only give the Factor a dollar in return for the privilege, but he 
would promise to keep that particular canoe at the very head 
of the whole brigade, and never once aUow another canoe to 
pass it during the voyage. 

The Factor was not only interested in the Indian's apprecia- 
tion of art, as well as amused over the idea that he would 
accept a bribe of a dollar, but he was curious to know which 
canoe the Indian most favoured. It was the one that displayed 
the Great Company's coat-of-arms; so Oo-koo-hoo, the famous 
white-water-man, not only won his choice and retained his 
dollar, but furthermore, he and his crew actually did keep 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 299 

the bow of that canoe ahead of all others — no matter where 
or when the other crews contested for the honour of leading the 
Fur Brigade. 

The next morning, at sunrise, the Fur Brigade was to 
take its departure. Now it was time I visited Spearhead, to 
thank my friends, the Free Trader and his family, for all 
their kindness to me, and to bid them farewell ; so I borrowed 
a small canoe and paddled across the lake. When I arrived 
they invited me to dine with them. At the table that day 
there was less talking — everyone seemed to be in a thoughtful 
mood. 

The windows and doors were open and the baggy mosquito 
netting sagged away from the hot sun as the cool breeze whis- 
pered through its close-knit mesh. Outside, I could see the 
heifer and her mother lying in the shade of a tree on the far 
side of the stump-lot, and near the doorway the ducks and geese 
were sauntering about the grass and every now and then making 
sudden httle rushes — as though they were trying to catch some- 
thing. There, too, in the pathway, the chickens were scratch- 
ing about and ruffling their feathers in little dust holes — as 
though they were trying to get rid of something. An un- 
expected grunt at the doorway attracted my attention and I 
saw a pig leering at me from the corners of its half-closed eyes — 
the very same pig the Free Trader and his wife had chosen to 
add to their daughter's wedding dowry — then it gave a familiar 
httle nod, as though it recognized me; and I fancied, too, that its 
ugly chops broke into an insolent smile. What was it thinking 
about? . . . Was it Son-in-law? I wondered. 

I glanced at Athabasca. How beautiful she looked! The 
reflected sunhght in the room cast a delightful sheen over her 
lustrous brown hair, and seemed to enhance the beauty of her 
charmingly sun-browned skin, that added so much to the 
whiteness of her even teeth, and to the brilhancy of her soft 
brown eyes. In a dreamy way she was looking far out through 



300 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

the window and away off toward the distant hills. She, too, 
set me wondering; was she thinking of Son-in-law? 

At that moment, however, the pig gave another impatient 
grunt which startled Athabasca and caused her to look directly 
at me ... I blushed scarlet, then; so did she — but, of 
course, only out of sympathy. 

"Yes, we'll send her to that finishing school in Toronto," 
her mother mused, while Free Trader Spear scratched his head 
once more, and three house flies lazily sat on the sugar bowl 
and hummed a vulgar tune. 

After dinner Mr. Spear invited me into the trading room to 
see some of the furs he had secured. Among them were four 
silver fox skins as well as the black one he had bought from 
Oo-koo-hoo. They were indeed fine skins. 

It was now time for me to take my departure, so I returned 
to the living room, but found no one there. Presently, how- 
ever, Mrs. Spear entered, and though she sat down opposite me, 
she never once looked my way. She seemed agitated about 
something. Clasping her fingers together, she twirled her 
thumbs about one another, then she twirled them back the 
other way; later she took to tapping her moccasined toe upon 
the bare floor. I wondered what was coming. I couldn't 
make it out. For all the while she was looking at a certain 
crack in the floor. Once more she renewed the twirling action 
of her thumbs, and even increased the action of her toe upon 
the floor. 

What did it all mean? Had I done anything to displease 
her? No ; I could think of nothing of the sort, so I felt a httle 
easier. Suddenly, however, she glanced up and, looking 
straight at me, began: 

"Mr. Heming ... we have only one child . . . 
and we love her dearly . . ." 

But the pause that foUowed was so long drawn out that I 
began to lose interest, especiaUy as the flies were once more 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 301 

humining the same old tune. A little later, however, I was 
almost startled when Mrs. Spear exclaimed: 

"But I'll lend you a photograph of Athabasca for six 
weeks!" 

Thereupon Mrs. Spear left her chair and going upstairs 
presently returned with a photograph wrapped in a silk 
handkerchief; and as at that very moment the Free Trader and 
his daughter entered the room, I, without comment, shpped 
the photograph into my inside pocket, and wished them all 
good-bye; though they insisted upon walking down to the 
landing to wave me farewell on my way to Fort Consolation. 

MUSTERING THE FUR BRIGADE 

Next morning, soon after dawn, the church bells were ringing 
and everyone was up and astir; and presently all were on their 
way to one or another of the Httle log chapels on the hill; where, 
a little later, they saw the stalwart men of the Fur Brigade 
kneehng before the altar as they partook of the holy sacra- 
ment before starting upon their voyage to the frontier of 
civihzation. 

Strange, isn't it, that the writers of northern novels never 
depict a scene Uke that.^ Probably because they have never 
been inside a northern church. 

Next, breakfasts were hurriedly eaten, then the voyageurs 
assembled upon the beach placed those big, beautifully formed, 
six-fathom canoes upon the water, and paddled them to the 
landing. Then Chief Factor Thompson and Factor Mackenzie 
joined the throng; and that veteran voyageur, Oo-koo-hoo, who 
was to command the Fur Brigade, touched his hat and con- 
versed with the officers. A few moments later the old guide 
waved his swarthy men into line. From them he chose the 
bowmen, calling each by name, and motioning them to rank 
beside him; then, in turn, each bowman selected a man for his 



302 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

crew; until, for each of the eight canoes, eight men were chosen. 
Then work began. 

Some went oif with tump-Hne in hand to the warehouse, 
ascended the massive stairs, and entered the fur loft. Tiers of 
empty shelves circled the room, where the furs were stored 
during the winter; but upon the floor were stacked packs of 
valuable pel ts — the harvest of the fur trade. The old-fashioned 
scales, the collapsible mould, and the giant fur press told of the 
work that had been done. Every pack weighed eighty pounds. 
Loading up, they rapidly carried the fur to the landing. In the 
storeroom the voyageurs gathered up the "tripping" kit of 
paddles, tents, axes, tarpaulins, sponges; and a box for each 
crew containing frying-pans, tea pails, tin plates, and tea-dishes. 
In the trading room the crews were supplied with provisions of 
flour, pork, and tea, at the rate of three pounds a day for each 
man. They were also given tobacco. Most of the voyageurs 
received "advances" from the clerk in the way of clothing, 
knives, pipes, and things deemed essential for the voyage. 
Birch bark, spruce roots, and gum were supphed for repairing 
the canoes. 

All was now in readiness. The loading of freight began, and 
when each canoe had received its allotted cargo the voyageurs 
indulged in much handshaking with their friends, a little quiet 
talking and affectionate kissing with their families and sweet- 
hearts. Then, paddle in hand, they boarded their canoes and 
took their places. 

In manning a six-fathom canoe the bowman is always the 
most important; the steersman comes next in rank, while the 
others are called "midmen." 

DEPARTURE OF THE FUR BRIGADE 

Factor Mackenzie and his senior officer, sitting in the 
guide's or chief voyageur's canoe, which, of course, was Oo-koo- 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 303 

hoo's, gave the word; and all together the paddle blades dipped, 
the water swirled, and on the gunwales the paddle handles 
thudded as the canoes heaved away. 

The going and coming of the Fur Brigade was the one 
great event of the year to those nomadic people who stood 
watching and waving to the fast-vanishing flotilla. Were 
they not bidding farewell to fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, 
or lovers, chosen as the best men from their village,^ Had they 
not lent a hand in the winning of the treasure that was floating 
away? If only the pelts in those packs could speak, what 
tales they would unfold! 

As I looked back the animated picture of the little settlement 
wherein we figured but a moment before gradually faded into 
distance. The wild-looking assembly was blotted from the 
shore. But still above the rapidly dwindling buildings waved 
the flag of the oldest chartered trading association in the world 
— the Hudson's Bay Company. 

Between eleven and twelve o'clock the brigade went ashore 
for a "snack." The canoes were snubbed to overhanging trees, 
and upon a rocky flat the fires burned. Hurriedly drinking 
the hot tea, the men seized pieces of frying pork and, placing 
them upon their broken bannock, ravenously devoured both 
as they returned to the canoes. No time was lost. Away we 
went again. Then the brigade would paddle incessantly for 
about two hours; then they would "spell", and paddles were 
laid aside "one smoke." As the way slackened the steersmen 
bunched the canoes. The soft, rich voices of the crews blended 
as they quietly chatted and joked and laughed together. 

Later, a stern wind came along. Nearing an island, some 
of the men went ashore and cut a mast and sprit-sail boom for 
each canoe. They lashed the masts to the thwarts with tump- 
lines, and rigged the tarpaulins, used to cover the packs, into 
sails. Again the paddles were shipped, save those of the steers- 
men; and the crews lounged about, either smoking or drowsing. 



304 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

The men were weary. Last night they had danced both hard 
and long, with dusky maids — as all true voyageurs do on the 
eve of their departure. To voyageurs stern winds are blessings. 
Mile after mile the wild flotilla swept along. Sunshine danced 
upon the rippling waves that gurgled and lapped as the bows 
overreached them. Rugged islands of moss-covered rock 
and evergreen trees rose on every side. The wind favoured us 
for about five miles, then shifted. Reluctantly the sails were 
let down, and masts and booms tossed overboard. At four 
o'clock the brigade landed on a pretty island, and a hurried 
afternoon tea was taken; after wliich we again paddled on, and 
at sundown halted to pitch camp for the night. 

CAMP OF THE FUR BRIGADE 

The canoes — ^held off shore so as not to damage them by 
touching the beach — ^were unloaded by men wading in the 
water. The fur packs were neatly piled and covered with 
tarpaulins. Then the canoes were hfted off the water, and 
carried ashore, and turned upside-down for the night. Tents 
were erected and campfires lit. Upon a thick carpet of ever- 
green brush the blankets were spread in the tents. The tired 
men sat in the smoke at the fires and ate their suppers round 
which black flies and mosquitoes hovered. 

Canadian voyageurs, being well used to both fasting and 
feasting, display great appetites when savoury food is plentiful, 
and though I have seen much feasting and heard astonishing 
tales of great eating, I feel I cannot do better than quote the 
following, as told by Charles Mair, one of the co-authors of 
that reliable book "Through the Mackenzie Basin": 

"I have already hinted at those masterpieces of voracity for 
which the region is renowned ; yet the undoubted facts related 
aroiuid our campfires, and otherwise, a few of which follow, 
almost beggar belief. Mr. Young, of our party, an old Hud- 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 305 

son's Bay officer, knew of sixteen trackers who, in a few days, 
consumed eight bears, two moose, two bags of pemmican, two 
sacks of flour, and three sacks of potatoes. Bishop Grouard 
vouched for four men eating a reindeer at a sitting. Our friend, 
Mr. d'Eschambault, once gave Oskinnegu, — 'The Young 
Man' — six pounds of pemmican. He ate it all at a meal, 
washing it down with a gallon of tea, and then complained 
that he had not had enough. Sir George Simpson states that 
at Athabasca Lake, in 1820, he was one of a party of twelve 
who ate twenty-two geese and three ducks at a single meal. 
But, as he says, they had been three whole days without food. 
The Saskatchewan folk, however, known of old as the Gens de 
Blaireaux — 'The People of the Badger Holes' — ^were not 
behind their congeners. That man of weight and might, our 
old friend Chief Factor Belanger, once served out to thirteen 
men a sack of pemmican weighing ninety pounds. It was 
enough for three days; but there and then they sat down and 
consumed it aU at a single meal, not, it must be added, without 
some subsequent and just pangs of indigestion. Mr. B., having 
occasion to pass the place of eating, and finding the sack of 
pemmican, as he supposed, in his path, gave it a kick; but, to 
his amazement, it bounded aloft several feet, and then fit. 
It was empty! When it is remembered that in the old buffalo 
days the daily ration per head at the Company's prairie posts 
was eight pounds of fresh meat, which was all eaten, its equiva- 
lent being two pounds of pemmican, the enormity of this 
Gargantuan feast may be imagined. But we ourselves were 
not bad hands at the trencher. In fact, we were always hungry. 
So I do not reproduce the foregoing facts as a reproach, but 
rather as a meagre tribute to the prowess of the great of old — 
the men of unbounded stomach!" 

And yet, strange as it may seem, fat men are seldom seen in 
the northern wilderness. That is something movie directors 
should remember. 



306 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

Pemmican, though little used nowadays, was formerly the 
mainstay of the voyageurs. It was made of the flesh of buifalo, 
musk-ox, moose, caribou, wapiti, beaver, rabbit, or ptarmigan; 
and for ordinary use was composed of 66 per cent, of dried meat 
pounded fine to 34 per cent, of hard fat boiled and strained. 
A finer quality of penctmican for officers or travellers was com- 
posed of 60 per cent, of dried meat pounded extra fine and 
sifted; 33 per cent, of grease taken from marrow bones boiled 
and strained; 5 per cent, of dried Saskatoon berries; 2 per cent, 
of dried choke cherries, and sugar according to taste. The 
pounded meat was placed in a large wooden trough and, being 
spread out, hot grease was poured over it and then stirred until 
thoroughly mixed with the meat. Then, after first letting it 
cool somewhat, the whole was packed into leather bags, and, 
with the aid of wooden mallets, driven down into a solid mass, 
when the bags were sewn up and flattened out and left to cool; 
during the coohng precaution was taken to turn the bags every 
five minutes to prevent the grease settling too much to one side. 
Pemmican was packed 50, 80, or 100 lb. in a bag — according 
to the diSiculty of transporting it through the country in 
which it was to be used. The best pemmican was made from 
buffalo meat, and 2 lb. of bufl^alo pemmican was considered 
equal to 2| lb. of moose or 3 lb. of caribou pemmican. 

Later, a cool sunset breeze from over the water blew the httle 
tormentors away, and then it was that those swarthy men en- 
joyed their rest. After supper some made bannock batter in 
the mouths of flour-sacks, adding water, salt, and baking 
powder. This they worked into balls and spread out in sizzling 
pans arranged obliquely before the fire with a bed of coals at the 
back of each. It was an enlivening scene. Great roaring fires 
sent glowing sparks high into the still night air, lighting up the 
trees with their intense glare, and casting weird shadows upon 
the surrounding tents and bushes. Picturesque, wild-looking 
men laughed, talked, and gesticulated at one another. A few 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 307 

with capotes off were sitting close to the fires, and flipping into 
the air the browning flap-jacks that were to be eaten the foflow- 
ing day. Others, with hoods over their heads, loUed back from 
the fire smoking their pipes — and by the way, novehsts and 
movie directors and actors should know that the natives of the 
northern wilderness, both white and red, do not smoke cigarettes ; 
they smoke pipes and nothing else. Some held their moccasins 
before the fire to dry, or arranged their blankets for tm-ning in. 
Others slipped away under cover of darkness to rub pork rinds 
on the bottom of their canoes, for there was much rivalry as to 
the speed of the crews. Still more beautiful grows the scene, 
when the June moon rises above the trees and tips with flicker- 
ing hght the running waves. 

Sauntering from one crew's fire to another, I listened for a 
whfle to the talking and laughing of the voyageurs, but hearing 
no thriUing tales or even a humorous story by that noted 
romancer Old Billy Brass, I went over and sat down at the 
officers' fire, where Chief Factor Thompson was discussing old 
days and ways with his brother trader. 

THE LONGEST BRIGADE ROUTES 

After a little while I asked : 

"What was the longest route of the old-time canoe and boat 
brigades?" 

"There were several very long ones," rephed Mr. Thompson, 
"for instance, the one from Montreal to Vancouver, a distance 
of about three thousand miles; also the one from York Factory 
on Hudson Bay to the Queen Charlotte Islands, and another 
from York Factory to the Mackenzie River posts. Some of the 
portages on the main highway of canoe travel were rather long, 
for instance, the one at Portage La Loche was twelve miles 
in length and over it everything had to be carried on man back. 

"In winter time, travel was by way of snowshoes, dog-sled, 



308 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

or jumper. A jumper is a low, short, strong sleigh set upon 
heavy wooden runners and hauled by ox, horse, men, or dogs. 
The freight load per dog — as you know — is a hundred pounds; 
per man, one to two hundred pounds; per horse, four to six hun- 
dred pounds; and per ox, five to seven hundred pounds. In 
summer there were the canoe, York boat, sturgeon-head scow, 
and Red River cart brigades. A six-fathom canoe carries from 
twenty to thirty packages ; a York boat, seventy-five packages ; 
a Sturgeon-head scow, one hundred packages ; and a Red River 
cart, six hundred pounds. The carts were made entirely of 
wood and leather and were hauled by horse or ox. With every 
brigade went the wife of one of the voyageurs to attend to the 
mending of the voyageurs' clothing and to look after the com- 
fort of the officer in charge. But the voyageurs always had to 
do their own cooking and washing. 

" In the old days, too, much of their food had to be procured 
from the country through which they travelled and therefore 
they relied upon buffalo, moose, wapiti, deer, bear, beaver, 
rabbit, fish, and water-fowl to keep them in plenty." 

Then for a while the Factors sat smoking in silence. The 
moon had mounted higher and was now out of sight behind the 
tops of the neighbouring trees, but its reflection was brilliantly 
rippled upon the water. At one of the fires a French half- 
breed was singing in a rich barytone one of the old chansons that 
were so much in vogue among the voyageurs of by-gone days — 
A la Claire Fontaine. After an encore, silence again held 
sway, imtil around another fire hearty laughter began to play. 

"The boys over there must be yarning again," remarked, the 
Chief Factor, as he pointed with his pipe, " let's go over, and listen 
awhile." 

BILLY BRASS TELLS ANOTHER STORY 

It was Oo-koo-hoo's fire and among his men was seated that 
ever-welcome member of another crew — Old Billy Brass. 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 309 

Evidently he had just finished telling one of his mirth-provok- 
ing stories, as the men were good-naturedly questioning him 
about it; for, as we sat down, he continued: 

"Yes, sir, it's true; fire attraks 'em. Why, I've knowed *em 
come from miles round when they catched a glimpse of it, an' 
as long as there's danger o' white bears bein' round you'U never 
again find Old Billy Brass tryin' to sleep beside a big fire. No, 
sir, not even if His Royal Highness the Commissioner or 
His Lordship the Bishop gives the word." 

Then he sat there slowly drawing upon his pipe with ap- 
parently no intention of adding a single word to what he 
had already said. Lest something interesting should be lost, 
I ventured: 

"Was it the Bishop or the Commissioner that made the 
trouble.^" 

"No, sir, neither; 'twas the Archdeacon," replied the old 
man as he withdrew his pipe and rubbed his smarting eyes clear 
of the smoke from the blazing logs. Taking a few short draws 
at the tobacco, he continued: 

"There was three of us, me an' Archdeacon Lofty an' 
Captain Hawser, who was commandin' one of the Company's 
boats that was a-goin' to winter in Hudson Bay. It happened 
in September. The three of us was hoofin' it along the great 
barren shore o' the bay. In some places the shore was that flat 
that every time the tide came in she flooded 'bout all the 
country we could see, an' we had a devil of a time tryin' to keep 
clear o' the mud. We had a few dogs along to help pack our 
beddin', but, nevertheless, it was hard work; for we was 
carryin' most of our outfit on our backs. 

"One evenin' just before sundown we stumbled upon a lot 
o' driftwood scattered all about the flats. As so much wood 
was lyin' around handy, we decided to spend the night on a 
little knoll that rose above high-water mark. For the last 
few days we had seen so httle wood that any of our fires could 



310 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

'a' been built in a hat. Rut that night the sight o' so much wood 
fairly set the Archdeacon crazy with dehght, an' nothin' would 
do but we must have a great roarin' fire to sleep by. I would 
have enjoyed a good warmin' as well as any one, but I was 
mighty leary about havin' a big fire. So I cautioned the 
Archdeacon not to use much wood as there was hkely to be 
bears about, an' that no matter how far off they was, if they 
saw that fire they would make for it — even if they was five or six 
miles out on the ice floes. He wouldn't hsten to me. The 
Captain backed him up, an' they both set to an' built a fire 
as big as a tepee. 

"We was pretty well tuckered out from the day's walkin'. 
So after supper we dried our moccasins an' was about to 
turn in early when — ^lo an' behold! — the Archdeacon got up 
an' piled more wood upon the fire. That made me mad; for 
unless he was huntin' for trouble he couldn't 'a' done a thing 
more foolish, an' I says somethin' to that effect. He comes 
back at me as though I was afraid o' me own shadder, an' says: 
'Rilly Rrass, I'm s'prised that a man Uke you doesn't put 
more faith in prayin' an' trustin' hisself in the hands o' the 
Almighty.' 

" I was so hot over the foohshness of bavin' such a big fire that 
I ups an' says: 

" 'That may be all right for you, sir, but I prefer to use my 
wits first, an' trust in Providence afterwards.' 

"Nothin' more was said, an' we all turns in. I didn't like 
the idea of every one goin' to sleep with a fire so big that it was 
showin' itseff for miles aroun', so I kep' myseff awake. I 
wasn't exactly thinkin' that somethin' really serious was goin' 
to happen, but I was just wishin' it would, just to teach the 
Archdeacon a lesson. As time went on I must 'a' done a 
little dozin' ; for when I looks up at the Dipper again, I learns 
from its angle with the North Star that it was already after 
midnight. An' — would you beheve it? — that fire was still 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 311 

blazin' away nearly as big as ever. The heat seemed to make 
me drowsy, for I began to doze once more. Ail at once I heard 
the dogs blowin' so hard " 

"Blowing?" 

"Yes, that's right; they were blowin'; for geddies don't 
bark hke other dogs when they're frightened. Well, as I was 
sayin', they were blowin' so hard that my hair nearly stood on 
end. Like a shot I throws off me blanket an' jumps to me 
feet, for I knowed what was comin'. The Captain an' the 
Archdeacon heard them, too, an' we all grabbed at once for the 
only gun, a single-barrelled muzzle-loader. 

"As ill luck would have it, the Archdeacon was nearest to 
that gun an' grabbed it, an' by the time we was straightened 
up we sees a great big white bear rushin' at us. Quick as 
thought the Archdeacon points the gun at the bear an' puUs 
the trigger, but the hammer only snaps upon the bare nipple; 
for the cap had tumbled off in the scramble. There was no 
time for re-cappin'; so, bein' the nearest to the chargin' bear, 
the Archdeacon just drops the old gun an' runs for dear hfe 
around that fire with me an' the Captin followin' close behind 
him. 

"When I seen the way the Archdeacon an' the Captin went 
a saihn' round that fire, it fairly took me breath away; for 
somehow I never had any idea that them two old cripples had 
so much speed left in 'em. An' you can bet it kep' me im- 
usually busy bringin' up the rear; an', anyway, the feehn' 
that the bear was for ever snappin' at me coat-tails kep' me 
from takin' things too easy. 

"Well, we tore round an' round an' round that fire so dang 
many times that we was not only rapidly losin' our wind but we 
was beginnin' to get dizzy into the bargain. All the time we 
could hear the great beast thunderin' after us, yet we daren't 
slacken our pace; no, sir, not even enough to take a single 
glance behind just to see which was gainin'. It was a sure 



312 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

case of life or death, but principally death; an' you can depend 
on it we wasn't takin' any chances. 

"Me an' the Captin was crowdin' so close upon the Arch- 
deacon's heels that in his terror lest we should pass him by he 
ups an' sets the pace at such a tremendous speed that the 
whole three of us actually catches up to the bear . . . without 
the brute's knowin' it. If it hadn't been for the Archdeacon 
steppin' on the sole of the bear's upturned left hind foot as the 
hungry beast was gallopin' round the fire . . . we'd have 
been runnin' a good deal longer. 

"Well, sir, if you had just seen how foohsh that bear looked 
when he discovered that we was chasin' him instead of him 
chasin' us, you'd have died laughin'. Why, he was the most 
bewildered an' crest-fallen animal I ever did see. But he soon 
regained his wits an' — evidently calculatin' that his only 
salvation layed in his overhaulin' us — ht out at a saprisin' 
gait in a grand effort to leave us far enough behind for him to 
catch up to us. But it didn't work; for by that time we had all 
got our second wind an' he soon reahzed that we was de- 
termined not to be overhauled from the rear. So he set to 
ponderin' what was really the best thing for him to do; an' then 
he did it. 

"You must understand that we was so close upon his heels 
that there wasn't room for him to stop an' turn around without 
us all fallin' on top of him. So what do you think the cunmn' 
brute did? Why, he just hauled off an' kicked out behind with 
his right hind foot, an' hit the Archdeacon a smashin' blow 
square on his stomach, an' knocked him bang against the 
Captin an' the Captin against me, an' me against the dogs; an' 
we all went down in a heap beside the fire. 

"Well, sir, that old brute had put so much glad an' earnest 
energy into its kick that it knocked the wind plum out of every 
one of us, an' for the next few seconds there was a mess of arms 
an' legs an' tails frantically tryin' to disentangle themselves. 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 313 

But, as good luck would have it, I went down upon the gun. 
As I rose to my feet, I slipped a cap on the nipple just as the 
bear comes chargin' around the fire facing us. I ups an' lets 
him have it full in the mouth. The shot nearly stunned him. 
While he was clawin' the pain in his face I had time to re-load, 
an' lets him have it behind the ear, an' he drops dead without 
a whimper. 

"Then — would you beheve it.^ — the Archdeacon goes up to 
the shaggy carcass, puts his foot on the bear's head, an' stands 
there lookin' for all the world like British Columbia discoverin' 
America, an' says: 

" 'There, now, Billy Brass, I hope you have learned a lesson. 
Next time you will know where to place your trust.' 

"Well, sir, the way he was lettin' on that he had saved the 
whole outfit made me mad. So I ups an' says : 

" 'Yes, sir, an' if 1 hadn't put me trust in me gun, there would 
have been another Archdeacon in heaven.'" 

THE TRUTH ABOUT WOODSMEN 

It was now growing late. For a while the smiling Indians, 
half-breeds, and white men smoked in silence; then one after 
another, each knocked the ashes from his pipe, arose, stretched 
himself, and sauntered off to his bed, whether in a tent, under a 
canoe, or in the open. Walking down to the water's edge I 
watched the moonhght for a while, then passsd quietly from one 
smouldering fire to another. Some of the men were still talking 
together in low tones so as not to disturb those who were 
already seeking slumber, while others were arranging their 
bedding; and still others were devoutly kneehng in prayer to 
The Master of Life. 

Thus during the four seasons of the year I had lived with and 
observed the men of the northern wilderness; and not only had 
I learned to like and respect them, but to admire their gene- 



314 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

rosity and honesty, their simphcity and skill, their gentleness 
and prowess; and, above all, to honour their spiritual attitude 
toward this world and the next. How different they were 
from the city dwellers' conception of them! Rut still you may 
want further proof. You may want first-hand knowledge of 
those northern men. You may want to study their minds and 
to look into their hearts. Then may I ask you to read the 
following letter, written a few years ago by an old Canadian 
woodsman — Mr. A. R. Carleton — who was born and bred in 
the northern wilderness. Then you may become better ac- 
quainted with at least one of the men I have been trying to 
picture to you. 

"I was born in the heart of the northern forest, and in my 
wanderings my steps have ever gone most willingly back 
toward the pine-covered hills and the grassy glades that slope 
down to cool, deep waters. The wanderlust has carried me 
far, but the lakes and waterfalls, the bluffs and the bays of the 
great northern No-Man's Land are my home, and with Mukwa 
the bear, Mah-en-gin the wolf, Wash-gish the red deer, and 
Ah-Meek the beaver, I have much consorted and have found 
their company quite to my hking. 

"Rut the fates have so dealt with me that for two years I 
have not been able to see the smile of Springtime breaking 
forth upon the rugged face of my northern No-Man's Land. I 
have had glimpses of it, merely, among crowded houses, out 
of hospital windows. StiU, my mind is native to the forest, 
and my thoughts and fancies, breaking captivity, go back, hke 
the free wild things they are, on bright days of springtime to the 
wild land where the change of season means what it never can 
mean in the town. 

"What does Spring mean to you town folk, anyway? I wiU 
tell you. It means lighter clothing, dust instead of sleet, the 
transfer of your patronage from fuel man to ice man, a few days 
of slushy streets and baseball instead of hockey. 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 315 

"What does it mean to the man of the woods? That I will 
try to tell you. It means that the deep snow which has mantled 
hill and valley for five months has melted into brooks and rivu- 
lets which are plunging and splashing away to find the ocean 
from whence they came. It means that the thick ice which 
throughout the long winter has imprisoned the waters of 
the lakes, is now broken, and the waves, incited by the south 
wind, are wreaking vengeance by beating it upon the rocks of 
the northern shore, until, subdued and melted, it returns to be 
a mere part of the waves again. Instead of the hungry winter 
howl of the wolf or the whining snarl of the sneaking lynx the 
air is now filled with happier sounds: ducks are quacking; geese 
are honking; waveys are cackling as they fly northward; 
squirrels among the spruce trees chatter noisily; on sandy 
ridges woodchucks whistle excitedly; back deep in the birch 
thicket partridges are drumming, and all the woodland is 
musical with the song of birds. 

"The trees, through whose bare branches the wind all winter 
has whistled and shrieked, are now sending forth leaves of 
tender green and the voice of the wind caressing them is 
softened to a tone as musical as the song of birds. Flowers are 
springing up, not in the rigid rows or precise squares of a 
mechanically inclined horticulturist, but surprising one by 
elbowing themselves out of the narrowest crevices, or peeping 
bashfully out from behind fallen trees, or clinging almost up- 
side down to the side of an overhanging cliff. 

"My camp on Rainy Lake faces the south and in front is 
a httle stunted black ash tree, so dwarfed, gnarled, twisted, 
and homely that it is almost pretty. I refrained from cutting it 
down because of its attractive deformity. In the springtime, 
a few years ago, a pair of robins chose it as their nesting place. 
One bright Sunday morning, as the nest was in course of 
construction, I was sitting in my doorway watching the pair. 
The brisk httle husband was hurrying toward the nest with a 



316 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

bit of moss; but the mild sun, the crisp air, the sweet breathing 
earth, the gently whispering trees seemed to make him so very 
happy he could not but tell of it. Alighting on a twig he 
dropped the moss, opened his beak, and poured forth in 
song the joy his httle body could no longer contain. That 
is the joy of a northern No-Man's Land in the month of 
May. 

"We are so happy in our woodland home that we wish every- 
one might share it with us. But perhaps some would not 
enjoy what we enjoy, or see what we see, and some are pre- 
vented from coming by the duties of other callings, and each 
must follow the pathway his feet are most fitted to tread. For 
myself, I only want my httle log cabin with the wild vines chmb- 
ing over its walls and clinging to the mud-chinked crevices, 
where I can hear the song of wild birds mingled with the 
sleepy hum of bees moving from blossom to blossom about the 
doorway; where I can see the timid red deer, as, peeping out of 
the brush, it hesitates between the fear of man and the tempta- 
tion of the white clover growing in front of my home, and where 
I can watch the endless procession of waves following each other 
up the bay. Give me the necessity of working for my daily 
bread so that I will not feel as though I were a useless cum- 
brance upon the earth; allow me an opportunity now and then 
of doing a kindly act, even if it be no more than restoring to the 
shelter of its mother's breast a fledgling that has fallen from 
its nest in a tree top. If I may have these I will be happy, and 
happier still if I could know that when the time comes for me 
to travel the trail, the sands of which show no imprint of re- 
turning footsteps, that I might be put to rest on the southern 
slope of the ridge beside my camp, where the sunshine chases 
iJie shadows around the birch tree, where the murmur of the 
waves comes in rhythm to the robin's song, and where the red 
deer play on moonhght nights. Neither will I feeir the snows 
of winter that come drifting over the bay, driven by the 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 317 

wind that whines through the naked tree tops, nor the howl of 
the hungry wolf, for what had no terror for me in life need not 
have afterward. And if the lessons that I learned at my 
mother's knee be true; if there be that within me that hves on, 
I am sure that it will be happier in its eternal home if it may look 
back and know that the body which it had tried to guide 
through its earthly career was having its long rest in the spot it 
loved best." 

Did you ever meet a character hke that in northern fiction .►^ 
No, of course not; how could you? . . . When the books 
were written by city-dwelhng men. Then, too, is not any pro- 
duction of the creative arts — a poem, a story, a play, a painting, 
or a statue — but a reflection of the composer's soul.^ So . . . 
when you read a book filled with inhuman characters, you have 
taken the measure of the man who wrote it, you have seen a 
reflection of the author's soul. Furthermore, when people 
exclaim : ' ' What's the matter with the movies ^ ' ' The answer 
is: Nothing . . . save that the screens too often reflect 
the degenerate souls of the movie directors. 

But the Indian — how he has been slandered for centuries! 
When in reahty it is just as Warren, the Historian of the 
Ojibways, proclaimed: "There was consequently less theft 
and lying, more devotion to the Great Spirit, more obedience 
to their parents, and more chastity in man and woman, than 
exists at the present day, since their baneful intercourse with 
the white race." And Hearne, the northern traveUer, ended a 
similar contention — ^more than a hundred years ago — by say- 
ing: "It being well known that those who have the least inter- 
course with white men are by far the happiest." 

That night, as I turned in, I had occasion to look through my 
kit bag, and there I found, wrapped in a silk handkerchief, 
the photograph — lent to me for six weeks — of the charming 
Athabasca. Being alone in my tent, I carefully unfolded 
its wrapper, and drawing the candle a httle nearer, I gazed 



318 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

at her beautiful face. Again I wondered about Son-in- 
law. . . . 



A BACE FOR THE PORTAGE 

At three o'clock next morning the camp was astir. In the 
half light of early day, and while breakfast was being pre- 
pared, the men "gummed" afresh the big canoes. Whitthng 
handles to dry pinesticks, they spUt the butts half way 
down, and placed that end in the fire. After a little burning, 
the stick opened like a fork; and, placing it over the broken 
seam, the voyageur blew upon the crotch, thus melting the 
hardened "gum"; then, spitting upon his palm, he rounded it 
off and smoothed it down. By the time breakfast was ready 
the tents were again stowed away in the canoes along with the 
valuable cargoes of furs. 

Paddhng up the mist-enshrouded river the canoes rounded 
a bend. There the eddying of muddy water told that a moose 
had just left a water-hly bed. The leaves of the forest hid his 
fleeing form; but on the soft bank the water slowly trickled 
into his deep hoof-prints, so late was his departure. The 
tracks of bear and deer continuously marked the shores, for the 
woods were full of game. From the rushes startled ducks rose 
up and whirred away. How varied was the scenery. Island- 
dotted lakes, timber-covered mountains, winding streams and 
marshy places; bold rocky gorges and mighty cataracts; dense 
forests of spruce, tamarack, poplar, birch, and pine — a region 
well worthy to be the home of either Nimrod or Diana. 

Later in the day, when all the canoes were ranged side by 
side, their gracefully curved bows came in Une; dip, swirl, 
thud; dip, swirl, thud, sounded all the paddles together. The 
time was faultless. Then it was that the picturesque brigade 
appeared in wild perfection. Nearing a portage, spontaneously 
a race began for the best landing place. Like contending 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 319 

chargers, forward they bounded at every stroke. Vigorously 
the voyageurs phed their paddles. StLffening their arms and 
cm-ving their backs, they bent the blades. Every muscle was 
strained. The sharp bows cleaved the lumpy water, sending it 
gurgling to the paddles that slashed it, and whirled it aside. 
On they went. Now Oo-koo-hoo's canoe was gaining. As that 
brightly painted craft gradually forged ahead, its swiftly run- 
ning wake crept steadily along the sides of the other canoes. 
Presently the wavelets were sounding "whiff, whiff, whiff," as 
the white bows crushed them down. Then at last his canoe 
broke free and lunged away, leaving all the brigade to follow 
in its broadening trail. The pace was too exhausting; the 
canoes strung out; but stiU the narrow blades slashed away, for 
the portage was at hand. With dangerous speed the first 
canoe rushed abreast of the landing, and just as one expected 
disaster the bowman gave the word. Instantly the crew, with 
their utmost strength, backed water. As the canoe came to a 
standstill the voyageurs rolled their paddle-handles along the 
gunwales, twirhng the dripping blades and enveloping the 
canoe in a veil of whirhng spray. Then, jumping into the 
shallow water, they hned up and quickly passed the packs 
ashore. The moment the cargo was transferred to the bank, 
the crew lifted the great canoe off the water and turned it 
bottom up, while four of them placed their heads beneath and 
rested the gunwales upon their capofe-bepadded shoulders. 
As they carried it off, one was reminded of some immense 
antediluvian reptile crawling slowly over the portage trail. 

There was now much excitement. Other crews had arrived, 
and were rapidly unloading. As the landing was over-crowded 
the portaging began. Each man tied the thin, tapering ends of 
his tump-Kne — a fifteen-foot leather strap with a broad centre 
— about a pack, swung it upon his back, and, bending forward, 
rested its broad loop over his head. Upon the first his com- 
panion placed two more packs; then, stooping beneath the 



320 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

weight of 240 pounds, the packers at a jog-trot set off uphill 
and down, over rugged rocks and fallen timber, through fern- 
covered marsh and dense underbrush. Coming to an 
opening in the wood at the far end of the portage, they quickly 
tossed their burdens aside, and back again they ran. Nowhere 
could one see more wiUing workers. You heard no swearing 
or grumbling about the exceedingly hard task before them. 
On the contrary, every man vied with the rest as to which 
could carry the greatest load and most swiftly cross the portage. 
Rivalry sped the work along. Shirts and trousers reeked with 
perspiration. The voyageurs puffed and panted as they went 
by, and no wonder — the portage was three quarters of a mile 
in length. 

Then away we went again, and up, up, up, we mounted day 
by day, toward the height-of-land, where a long portage over 
low-lying marshy ground brought us to the place where our 
descent began; then for days we ran with the current until it 
entered a larger river, and soon we found that endless rapids 
interrupted our work, and down many of them the canoes were 
run. The Hudson's Bay Company, however, never allows its 
men to shoot rapids with fur-laden canoes; so it was on that 
wild stretch of our trip that the skill of the voyageur was tested 
most. 

FIGHTING WITH DEATH 

At the head of one of the great rapids Oo-koo-hoo, seeing 
that I mated well with one of his crew, invited me to take a 
paddle and help them through. Tossing in an extra paddle 
for each canoeman we stepped aboard, and with a gentle shove 
the current caught the hght canoe and carried us out to mid- 
stream. Long before we sighted white water the roar of the 
cataract was humming in our ears. We midmen sat upon 
dunnage sacks and braced our moccasined feet against 
the ribbing. Presently the bowman stood up and scanned 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 321 

the river. Dark, ominous water raced ahead for a hundred 
yards then disappeared, leaving nothing but a great surging 
mass of white that leaped high and dropped out of sight in the 
apparently forsaken river-bed. Then the steersman stood 
up, too, and Indian words passed between them. Every 
moment we were gaining impetus, and always heading for the 
highest crest of foam. Waiting for the word to paddle was 
even worse than waiting for the starter's gun in a scuUing race. 
At last it came, just as we were twenty-five yards from the end 
of dark water. With a wild shout from the bowman we drove 
our paddles home. The great canoe trembled a little at first,^ 
as our work was somewhat ragged, but a moment later we 
settled into an even stroke and swept buoyantly among the 
tossing billows. Now before us ran a strange wild river of 
seething white, lashing among great, gray-capped, dark green- 
ish boulders that blocked the way. High rocky banks standing 
close together squeezed the mighty river into a tumidt of fury. 
Swiftly we ghde down the racing torrent and plunge through 
the boiling waters. Sharp rocks rear above the flying spray 
while others are barely covered by the foaming flood. 
It is dangerous work. We midmen paddle hard to force the 
canoe ahead of the current. The steersman in bow and stem 
ply and bend their great seven-foot paddles. The bowman 
with eyes alert keenly watches the whirling waters and signs 
of hidden rocks below. The roar of seething waters drowns 
the bowman's orders. The steersman closely watches and 
foUows every move his companion makes. Down we go, 
riding upon the very back of the river; for here the water 
forms a great ridge, rising four or five feet above the water- 
line on either shore. To swerve to either side means sure 
destruction. With terrific speed we reach the brink of a 
violent descent. For a moment the canoe pauses, steadies 
herself, then dips her head as the stern upheaves, and down we 
plunge among more rocks than ever. Right in our path the 



322 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

angry stream is waging battle with a hoary bowlder that dis- 
putes the way. With all its might and fmy the frantic river 
hisses and roars and lashes it. Yet it never moves — it only 
frowns destruction upon all that dares approach it. 

How the bowman is working! See his paddle bend! With 
hghtning movements he jabs his great paddle deep into the 
water and close under the left side of the bow; then with a 
mighty heave he lifts her head around. The great canoe 
swings as though upon a pivot; for is not the steersman doing 
exactly the very opposite at this precise moment? We sheer 
oflF. But the next instant the paddles are working on the 
opposite sides, for the bowman sees signs of a water-covered 
rock not three yards from the very bow. With a wild lunge 
he strives to lift the bow around; but the paddle snaps like a 
rotten twig. Instantly he grabs for another, and a grating 
sound runs the length of the heaving bottom. The next mo- 
ment he is working the new paddle. A httle water is coming 
in but she is running true. The rocks now grow fewer, but 
stijl there is another pitch ahead. Again the bow dips as we 
rush down the inchne. Spray rises in clouds that drench 
us to the skin as we plunge through the "great swell" and 
then shoot out among a multitude of tumbhng billows that 
threaten to enguK us. The canoe rides upon the backs of 
the "white horses" and we rise and fall, rise and fall, as they 
fight beneath us. At last we leave their wild arena, and, enter- 
ing calmer water, paddle away to the end of the portage 
trail. 

One morning, soon after sunrise, the brigade came to the end 
of its joiu-ney as it rounded a point and headed for a smoking 
steamboat that rested upon a shimmeriug lake; and so entirely 
did the rising mist envelop the craft that it suggested the 
silhouette of a distant mountain in volcanic eruption. Then 
the canoes, each in turn, lay alongside the steamer; the fur 
packs were loaded aboard, and thence by steamboat and rail- 



BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 323 

road they continued their journey to Montreal; where together 
with the "returns" from many another of the Hudson's Bay 
Company's thirty-four districts, they were reshipped in ocean- 
going craft for England where eventually they were sold by 
auction in London. 

A hundred years ago as many as ten brigades, each number- 
ing twenty six-fathom canoes, sometimes swept along those 
northern highways and awoke those wild sohtudes with the 
rollicking songs and laughter of fifteen or sixteen hundred 
voyageurs; but alas for those wonderfully picturesque days of 
bygone times ! The steamboats and the railroads have driven 
them away. 

In my youth, however, I was fortunate enough to have 
travelled with the last of those once-famous fur brigades; and 
also to have learned from personal experience the daily life 
of the northern woods — the drama of the forests — of which in 
my still earlier youth I had had so many day-dreams; and now 
if in describing and depicting it to you I have succeeded in im- 
parting at least a fraction of the pleasure it gave me to witness 
it, I am well repaid. But perhaps you are wondering about the 
beautiful Athabasca. ►^ 

ATHABASCA AND SON-IN-LAW 

Some years later, while on my second visit to Fort Con- 
solation, I not only found a flourishing town of some four or 
five thousand inhabitants built on Free Trader Spear's original 
freehold, but in the handsome brick City Hall — standing in 
the original stump-lot — I met the old Free Trader himself, now 
holding office as the Mayor of Spearhead City. Not only had 
he become wealthy — rumour said he was already a millionaire — 
but he had taken another man into partnership, for now over 
his big brick storehouse read a huge sign in golden letters 
"Spear and ..." For like all day-dreams — if only 



324 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 

dreamed often enough — the ever-present dream of the Free 
Trader and his wife had really come true. 

It was then that I learned that soon after my departure 
Prince Charming had come up out of the East, fallen in love 
with the beautiful Athabasca, become the actual Son-in-law, 
had been taken into partnership by her father, and together 
the lucky groom and his blushing bride had moved into their 
newly built log cabin, furnished with the long-promised bed, 
table, and chairs, the cooking stove, blankets, crockery, cutlery, 
and cooking utensils. Round about their simple little home a 
heifer, a pig, and some ducks and geese stood guard while their 
beautiful mistress lived happy ever after — at least she did until 
prosperity inveigled her into a grand new brick mansion; 
and then, of course, her troubles began, because happiness 
always prefers a cabin to a castle. 



THE END 



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